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lixzey · 6 months

Note

Hi again babe😊 So I thought of a request, it’s kinda long so I don’t mind if you want to put it off or something but here I go anyway.

Timmy is older than reader by quite a few years (no minors ofc💀) but they’re dating and Timmy starts to feel like he’s manipulating reader because of the age gap so he breaks up with her and is kinda mean to her. Reader is really sad cause she did love him and kinda throws herself at him. then one day she overhears him having sex with another girl and starts crying and he catches her and basically admits how he really felt bad. And then maybe makeup smut and fluff. 👍bye, happy Sunday💕

A/N: Changed it a bit, i hope it's alright! So far, this is the longest out of anything I've ever written. My first attempt at smut! This took me almost five hours to write 😭

wc: 3.4k

Info: angst, age gap, unprotected sex, oral male receiving, masturbation, read with caution

More Than Words.

Y/N loved Timothée more than anything in the world. Timothée was ten years older than her, but it didn't matter to her. The two were paired in a movie and sparks flew almost instantly. At first, Timothée was hesitant to pursue her, being older than her and all. But Y/N proved that age wasn't an issue between them, since they were both consenting adults, nothing was wrong with what they had. But being in his late thirties made him feel like he was using her. Timothée felt like he was manipulating her into being in a relationship with him. Y/N was all that he could ever want, but in the back of his mind, it felt too good to be true.

“Y/N, I don't want to do this anymore.” Timothée blurted out. He had taken Y/N to dinner at a fancy restaurant where there were a lot of people dining.

Y/N stared at him, “What do you mean, love?”

“I want to break up, I want to end this.” Timothée said flatly, though it was more like he was trying to be intimidating—which he knew wouldn't work with her.

Y/N was glaring at him, her (y/e/c) eyes were darkening at the sight of him, which made him feel genuinely scared of the younger woman in front of him.

“You took me out to a fancy place,” she said, looking around. “A very public place. Where I'm not allowed to scream at you without looking like a crazy bitch.”

Timothée winced and looked down, reaching for the glass of red wine that was in front of him and drinking all of it in one go.

“You're smart, for taking me to a crowded place.” Y/N continued, her voice low, “I applaud you for that.”

“Y/N I—"

“I'm not stupid, Timothée,”Y/N snapped at him. “I know what you're doing, you fucker.”

“You're very young, younger than me . . . and . . .”

Y/N's eyes flashed dangerously, and Timothée knew immediately that he had said the wrong thing.

“I'm going fucking punch your pretty face if you finish that motherfucking sentence.” Y/N growled. He believed her. Y/N L/N wasn't one to threaten a person, but when she did, she would absolutely hurt you. Timothée swallowed hard at the sight of the furious woman in front of him, who looked extremely sexy and made him want to kiss her hard and run his fingers in her long hair.

Timothée did his best to look intimidating again, but he knew that it was pointless because this woman—who he dated for a year—knew him better than anyone else. “Y/N, I don't want-”

“You don't get to break up with me, Timothée Hal Chalamet.” Y/n shook her head defiantly. “You're not too old for me, you fucking shit! How many times have I told you-”

“I'm trying to do the right thing.”

“Fuck that right thing bullshit, Timothée! We've been dating for almost a year and I've told you countless times, I don't care that you're older than me! I love you for you, not because of your age.”

Timothée looked around, thankful that no one was paying them any attention. Still, a public display wasn't something that would do their careers good. Y/N being in love with her career, and living her dream. He wasn't going to let her throw her career away—her anger could be explosive, and that wasn't good if this conversation went south. He called the waiter and practically threw money at him, before grabbing Y/N's hand and pulling her out the establishment.

As soon as the two reached his car, he opened the door for the glaring woman. Timothée got in his car and drove back to Y/N's apartment. Once they arrived at her cozy apartment, Y/N had her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him and waiting for him to explain.

“I-uh-you're amazing, Y/N, really,” Timothée started, shifting slightly under her intense gaze, “But you deserve . . . you deserve—”

Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Someone younger? Someone more handsome? Someone who's not as thin as a stick?”

“Yes! But hey! I am not as thin as a stick, thank you very much!”

“I don't fucking care, Tim! I want you. I love you. Only you. Please don't do this.”

“You deserve-”

Y/N closed the space between them and cupped his face, “I don't care what I deserve! I chose you, I made my goddamn choice to be with you, to be yours!”

“No. No. You shouldn't have picked me, I don't deserve you. You're young, beautiful, and incredibly sexy which makes this so much harder.” Timothée insisted, gently removing her soft hands away from his face. He wanted nothing more than to pin her against the wall and fuck her senseless, but he didn't want to use her. This was already hard enough. Saying no to her took everything, and it was killing him to push her away. “You just don't know any better because we jumped right into this too fast, I manipulated you into this.”

“What? You didn't fucking manipulate me Tim-”

“Yes, I did!” Timothée yelled, running his hands into his hair, “I manipulated you into being in a relationship with me! You didn't know any better!”

“Are you calling me stupid, Timothée Hal!?” Y/N snapped, “I chose to be with you-”

“Maybe you are stupid! Stupid enough to fall for my bullshit!”

“Timothée-”

“You shouldn't have chosen me, hell, we shouldn't have been together in the first place!” Timothée yelled, “I'm fucking thirty-eight, Y/N I'm two years closer to forty! And you're twenty fucking eight! Ten motherfuckimg years younger than me!”

“Tim, are you even hearing yourself!?” Y/N yelled back, poking his chest, “You're fucking drowning in your insecurities!”

Timothée looked straight into the eyes of the beautiful woman in front of him, “I just want you to be with someone who's better than me.” Timothée mumbled softly, nearly whispering as he looked down at his feet. He winced when she placed her hands on either side of his face.

Y/N scoffed loudly. “Oh, please. You keep on thinking that you're not worthy, but you are. You are fucking worth it, worth all of the fucking things in this world.” She titled his head using her finger, making him face him. “I love you, Tim. I love you more than anything in this world. You aren't just some older guy,” Timothée winced when she said older guy, but she just chuckled, “You're mine.”

Timothée gazed into her eyes, seeing the soft look of love in them which made it much more difficult to leave her.

“You don't deserve an old man like me.” Timothée mumbled, averting his gaze away from her.

Y/N stepped back, before sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose, “So you think just because you're older, I don't deserve you? You're going to just toss me to the side? Make it better for the both of us?”

“Was hoping to.” Timothée mumbled.

Y/N glared at him again. He was really pushing her buttons. She didn't give a damn that he was older, yet here he was, making a big deal of it like an idiot.

“You're a fucking idiot.”

“I know, I'm an idiot for forcing you to be with me.”

“If you say that you forced me, manipulated me, one more time, I swear to God I'm going to fucking break your jaw.” Y/N snapped, throwing him a threatening glare. Timothée fell silent, staring at her as the silence painfully wrapped them both. He was waiting for her to cry and hurt him, throw things at him, call him an asshole and slap him across the face, or literally anything. He was waiting for her to kick him out for breaking her heart or tell him she didn't even love him—even if it was a lie—anything. But she stood there, glossy eyed and fighting back tears.

“Y/N, I-”

“No. You're stuck with me, Timothée. I'm not going anywhere.”

Timothée sighed, this woman was going to be the death of him. She was absolutely stubborn, and could be a pain in the ass if she wanted to. “Y/N, you're being stubborn, love.”

“Did I fucking stutter?” Y/N hissed, “I'm not going anywhere.” She enunciated each word as if he was a little kid or as if he was stupid. Maybe he was stupid.

Timothée groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Y/N, please don't make this any more harder—”

“No.” Y/N outright refused. “Haven't you met me? I'm not letting you go just because you're insecure. I'm stubborn? Hell yes, I fucking am.”

Timothée mentally kicked himself. He should have expected it when she refused to let him break up with her, he knew she wouldn't go down without a fight, and nothing will be easy with this stubborn woman—his stubborn woman. Timothée shut his eyes tightly; just looking at her, fighting for him, was painful. “Y/N,you don't know . . . you don't know what you're saying.”

Suddenly, Y/N crashed her lips into his, taking him off-guard. Timothée shut his eyes tight as he felt his knees buckle at the touch of her lips. Her fingers weaved through his curls, making him moan. Before he had the chance to think, he had his fingers buried in her long hair as he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, taking dominance. She tasted like heaven and sin, he was addicted.

Y/N moaned, the sound of her moans made him crazy, making his already throbbing cock painfully twitch inside of his jeans. It was usually him taking dominance, and she loved it. But now, it was Y/N taking charge as she shoved him against the door, and he loved it. His hands went down to her ass, taking in handfuls of it. How he wanted to rip the dress off her and just devour her. Her lips felt like drugs, pulling him in deep every time. And then he finally realized what his intentions really were. He practically threw her off of him, feeling guilty when she yelped because she fell onto the floor.

“I'm sorry. I . . . I have to go,” Timothée said in a panic and ran out of her apartment, with Y/N trailing behind him.

“Tim! Please, don't leave me….” Y/N called out to him from the doorway, tears in her eyes. He turned back and watched the tears stream down her cheeks. Timothée felt his heart break, he was being an dick to the woman he loved. Even if it was cowardice, he turned his back on her and walked away.

Y/N felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. The man she loved, the man she wanted to grow old with, left and broke her heart. She wanted to scream and shout, she wanted to trash her apartment in rage and heartbreak. How was she supposed to live without him? Her other half? Y/N fell onto her knees and cried her heart out.

An hour later she tried calling him, but he wasn't answering. She tried leaving voice messages, begging him to think about it and come back to her. She cursed him, yelled, cried, for hours until her body gave out and finally passed out.

A week later, Y/N was still crying her heart out. She was still leaving Timothée messages, still begging him to come back. But still, he wasn't answering. Her friends were getting worried, leaving her texts and calls as well, but she didn't answer any of her friends' calls and texts.

Meanwhile, Timothée was drinking his guilt away. He kept on repeating each and every one of Y/N's voice messages. Hearing her cry and begging for him to come back made his insides twist, but he just wished that she'd forget about him and move on. But there was a part of him that hated himself for breaking her heart and wanted nothing more than to rush back to her place and kiss her, hug her, apologize for being such a dick. He would be lying to himself if he said that he didn't want to be with her. He wanted to marry her, have a family with her. But his insecurities got the best of him. The past year of being in a relationship with her was the best year of his life. He missed her terribly, but he fucked it all up.

Timothée sighed, before lowering his boxers. He stroked his throbbing length as he moaned her name.

“Oh fuck, Y/N, oh baby.” he moaned as he moved his hand up and down his cock, quickening his pace as he relived the memory of fucking her against the balcony of his home. Her body, he wanted to worship her again. Timothée wanted to suck on her breasts as he traced every curve of her perfect body. He thrust his cock in his hand, grunting when he wasn't satisfied. Timothée wanted to drive back to Y/N's place so bad, he wanted her tight pussy to clench around his cock and fuck ber until she was screaming his name and came around him. He would just have to settle for his hands for the time being then. He got his phone from his nightstand and opened his gallery. He clicked open his private album of photos of her that he had taken while and after they had sex. He settled on one where her breasts and face were covered in his cum.

“Oh, Y/N, fuck!” he moaned as he came, the sticky substance covering his hands.

Another week later, he couldn't take it anymore. He missed her badly. He missed her smiles, her laugh, her sass, her care, her love, he missed her. Not having her body, not hearing her moans, not having her pussy clench against his cock, made him crazy. Timothée buried his face in his pillow, two weeks without her was absolutely killing him. But his pride was making it harder than it already was.

Suddenly, there was a knock on his door. He got up, silently cursing whoever was knocking on his door at this hour. It was fucking midnight, and he wasnt't expecting anyone. He opened the door and his breath caught in his throat.

“Hi.” Y/N's soft voice echoed in his ears. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her hair was a mess. She was wearing sweatpants and a shirt two sizes larger. “Can I come in? Or should…..should I just go?”

“Uh, yeah. Come in.” Timothée opened the door wider and stepped aside to make way. “How…how are you?” he asked, scratching the back of his head.

“Shitty. Absolutely shitty.” Y/N muttered as she made her way to his living room. “You?”

Timothée stiffened, should he admit that he missed her so bad and was an absolute dickhead for everything? He stared at her, she looked miserable. She looked thinner since two weeks ago, her eyes were dull and practically lifeless. Timothée felt his heart break even more, the woman he loved was miserable because of him.

“It's bullshit.”

Y/N smirked at him, “Easier, huh?”

Timothée chuckled nervously, “Nope, it isn't.” The two of them locked eyes, and before they knew it, they were kissing each other with the passion that burned inside of them. His fingers ran through her hair as his tongue entered her mouth, savoring the addicting taste of her. Y/N pulled away, which made him whine at the feeling.

“What are we, Tim? I can't do this if you won't give me a proper answer.” Y/N whispered, her gaze slowly going down.

Timothée tilted her head up, “I'm sorry for being an idiot.”

“You're my idiot.” Y/N chuckled softly, “Are we okay again?” she asked hesitantly. Instead of answering her, he crushed his lips against hers. “Mine.” he moaned into the kiss.

“Yours, forever yours.”

Timothée picked her up, lips still locked together, her legs wrapping around his waist. He brought her up to his room and placed her gently on the bed.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much, Y/N.”

“I love you, Timmy. More than anything.” Timothée took off his shirt before pressing his lips back on hers, parting her lips with his tongue. He sucked on her tongue, savoring the sweet taste of her. Y/N bit on his lower lip, that made him moan into the miss. His hands trailed over her body while she pulled on his hair, whimpering at his touch.

Timothée pulled away, tugging on her shirt, taking it off of her. He unclasped her lacy red bra with ease, taking off the offending fabric off of her chest.

“I missed these.” Y/N moaned as Timothée sucked on one of her breasts while her hands made their way to the waistband of his shorts, tugging them down along with his boxers. His cock was hard and throbbing as it sprung free.

“I still get surprised with how big you are.” Y/N chuckled, kitten licking the tip of his cock.

“Don't tease, princess.” Timothée whined. Y/N licked the tip one last time before bobbing up and down, taking his length in her mouth.

“Merde! Princess, fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good.” he moaned, thrusting his hips forward making Y/N gag, drool dripping from the side of her mouth. She cupped his balls, sucking him harder and faster.

“Oh, fuck, I-I'm g-gonna cum!” Timothée moaned as he released in her mouth. Y/N sucked hard, making sure to take every last drop of his cum.

“Good girl. Now, on your back, princess.” he demanded, his voice husky. He slid her sweatpants down, taking her panties along with it. He slipped two fingers inside of her, making her whimper. He watched her as he moved his fingers in and out her, grinning when she gasped when he rubbed his thumb over her clit. “You like that, don't you, princess?” he whispered in her ear. “So wet for me, eager for my cock, aren't you?”

“Yes, oh, f-fuck! Right there!” When he felt her walls beginning to clench around his fingers, he smirked and removed them, making her whine at the empty feeling. “Please, Tim, d-don't tease!”

“What do you want, princess? You want my cock, huh, princess? Beg for it.” Timothée whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

“Please, Timmy, I want you, I need you! Fill me up with your cum until my knees give out!” Y/N begged, rubbing her thighs together to temporarily ease her desire.

Timothée lined his cock up to her entrance, pushing in slow and deep, making her hiss. “So tight, fuck.” he groaned as thrust in and out of her at a slow pace, letting her adjust. He savored the feeling of being inside of her, her walls delectably suffocating his cock. He briefly pulled out of her only to thrust back in hard and deep, Y/N moaned loudly. “Fuck, harder! Please!”

Timothée growled loudly and withdrew again, plunging back into her and hard and deep. “Mine,” he said in a gasping breath as he quickened his pace, Y/N's arms wrapping around him, her nails digging on his skin. Timothée gripped her hips, thrusting in and out rhythmically.

“All yours, forever yours, only yours.” Y/N moaned. Timothée panted against her skin, growling and sucking at breasts.

“I'm g-gonna cum!” Y/N whimpered, her nails digging deeper into his skin.

“Cum for me, princess. Come around my cock. Gonna cum too, fuck!”

“Oh fuck!” Y/N cried out, her arms and legs wrapping around him and gripping him tightly as she came hard around him. Timothée grunted as he spilled inside of her, “Fuck, I love you.” he whispered in her ear as he collapsed on top of her, kissing her neck up to her lips.

“I love you more.” Y/N chuckled tiredly. Timothée flipped her over so she was laying on top of him. He kissed the top of her head as she snuggled on his chest.

He missed her so much, and Timothée vowed never to let go of his woman ever again.

“I love you, more than words can ever describe.”

@helens3amstuff @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @bobthe-turmpetman29

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raineydays411 · 3 years

Text

Oh, what am I supposed to do without you

Loki x daughter!reader

Summary: Loki thought he was in a good place. He was married, happy and having a child. He should’ve known the universe wasn’t that kind.

A/N: God I’m so sorry about this one lol. Not much of the reader but I will be making a second part. I hope yall like this one though. Inspiration came from “Mr, Loverman” and this fic.

Master list

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The silence was rattling. It creeped into the room, slowly,menacingly. Threatening to make him go mad. It wrapped around his body like a familiar friend. Making it hard for him to breath as it suffocated him. He knew they were staring at him. Trying to figure out what he would do next, whether he would break or not. Truthfully he didn’t know what he would do. For now he just starred as well. Not at them, of course not. He stared at the one thing that mattered. His reason for waking up and living. The one person in this entire universe who gave his world color. He reached out to touch her. Touch the hands that were always so warm against his cold skin. Hands that held his firm and sure as she pulled him along behind her, a smile on her beautiful face. Hands that were now cold and limp, the radicant glow she had been known for gone dark. The colors she brought to his world dimmed to dull, gre, muted hues. Then a sound broke through the silence. two sounds actually. One a wail of new life, a baby taking her first breaths, and another. A wail of a man who has lost everything. A wail of agony and pain.

As the healers bustled around him, Loki had only one thought in his head.

“What am I supposed to do without you”

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Three months later and Loki still felt the emptiness left by his love. He heard her at night, humming sweet melodies as she stroked his hair. He hears her heartbeat as he eventually falls asleep, worn out by his constant tears. His room is in shambles, his clothes strewn about the floor, furniture smashed, everything is destroyed. Except for the things that belong to her. Her silk dresses that draped on her body perfectly were still hanging, untouched. The books she spent hours reading and re-reading remained on the shelf, collecting dust as they were no longer used. He doesn’t let anyone in their chambers. The space where they both shared. Space where they fought, made up, made love. To let someone else in would be tainting it. Soiling the memories they made together. That was one thing he could never do.

Another was look at the little monster who is responsible for this tragedy.

It was a girl. The daughter of one Loki Odinson and his beloved.

Ironic. This child was supposed to bring happiness with its birth. Not even cleaned and it already managed to take away Loki’s light. He can barely stand looking at it. He tried, of course he tried. But within minutes he had to call the nurse to take it away. Why?

Because she has her mothers eyes.

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“Loki”

“Get out”

“Loki, it's been nine months since your child was--”

“THAT THING IS NO CHILD OF MINE”

Frigga was taken aback. She knew her son was heartbroken, devastated at the loss of his wife. But to disown his daughter, that was something she didn’t see coming.

“Loki, you are being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable? My wife has died because if that creature--”

“It is a child. A babe who has no idea who her father nor her mother is.”

“And as far as I’m concerned she never will!” Loki shouts, finally looking up at his mother.

Frigga heart breaks for her son. She sees the utter agony he is in, the inner torment going on in his soul. Even if she didn’t see it in his face, the state of his room and self gives it away. He looks like he hasn’t bathed in the nine months that has passed. His clothes were rumpled and wrinkled, hair unkempt and wild. His face was pale and hollow, as if he was only eating enough to survive. He had dark bags under his eyes that showed that he hasn’t been sleeping well. He truly was a man who was broken, almost beyond repair.

“My son” Frigga said carefully,” I can never understand the pain you are going through, I pray to Valhalla I will not have to anytime soon. But please if not for yourself or that child, for the memory of her, attempt to see your daughter before making a rash decision.” And with that, she walked out of his chamber, leaving Loki to the silence again as he stared at the spot his mother stood. considering her words, he got up. picked up his room, went to bathe and walked out of the room for the first time in nine months.

His face held no emotion as he walked down the hallways. He saw the servants stop and stare at him, shock filled their face as they saw the prince. He glared at them, sending them scurrying at the dark glance. He reached the nursery, the maid who oversaw the nursery tried to stop him.

“My lord, you--”

“Where is the child.” He said, calm and cool. The maid looked at him in fear, not knowing how to respond. At her silence, Loki scoffed and pushed her away, marching into the nursery. Upon entering he froze, memories of him and his beloved discussing the design they wanted for their child

**“Darling, why does the color shade matter? It’s not like the child has expectations.”

Laughter fills the air, “Loki, we must put every effort into showing our child they are loved. That includes finding the perfect shade of green to go with the room”

Loki looks at his wife, gently smiling.”If you say so my dear”**

The room was perfect. The walls were a beautiful shade of green that allowed the light into the room. There were vines and flowers crawling up the walls and draped over curtains. A white and gold crib stood in the middle of the chamber. A veil draped over it, preventing Loki from seeing the child inside. He was thankful as he worked up the courage to walk up to it. He looked out the window, seeing the stars that covered the sky, the lights of Asgard covering the earth.

She would have loved it.

He took a deep breath and walked toward the crib. He pulled back the veil only to see that there was no child in there.

“The babe is with your mother my lord.”

He turned to the maid. Embarrassed that she might have witnessed him reminiscing.

“And where is my mother” He asked

“In-in the dining hal--”

He walked away before she was able to finish her sentence. He took long strides to the hall, wondering his his mother had tricked him into eating with the family.On the way, he passed a window overlooking the garden. He thinks of the times where he used to sit in it and listen to her read.

*** “...exquisite, in question more. These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ brows”

“My love, why do you insist on reading these midgardian stories?”

Her laughter reaches his ears, “Because beloved, it's a different perspective to something familiar”

“Oh? and what is that ?”

“Love” ***

“oki--”

Hearing his name, Loki is brought back to present times once more. He looks to see Thor, watching him with careful eyes.

“Brother, it is wonderful to see you.”

“I wish I can say the same.”

Thor laughs, a soft chuckle compared to the booming laughter Loki knows he is capable of.

“Ah Loki, your dry wit has been missed”

Loki rolls his eyes and starts walking and Thor follows. The two walking in silence.

“What is it like?” Loki says softly. Thor looks at him in confusion.

“It?”

“The child.”

“Oh brother, Y/n is--”

“Y/n?”

That was the name she wanted. If they were to have a girl. She was determined, seeing the name in the book she loved to read. He remembers when they were telling his family she was with child.

*** Everyone was seated, servants bustling around the long table. Laughter filled the hall as the sun was setting.

“Loki, you said you had news to tell us” Frigga said, taking a sip of her wine.

Loki smiled, looking at his wife. Her face absolutely radiant as she flashes a smile of pure joy.

“ Well,” Loki waits till Thor has taken a large swig of ale, “ My beloved and are are expecting a child.”

Gasps fill the room as well as Thor's hacking, ale being spewed on the table.

“Oh Loki that is wonderful!!” Frigga exclaims standing from her seat to embrace him. “Oh my dear, this is the most wonderous news,”

“BROTHER I can’t believe it!” Thor exclaims, lifting Loki in a crushing hug. And for once, he didn’t mind it. He turns to her and hugs her more gently. “ You are just full of surprises aren’t you, starlight”

Laughter, “Thor, I thought I told you to stop calling me that”

Silence fills the hall as Odin clears his throat, “ Loki, you have made me proud.”

Loki smiles as his love beams at him.

“Thank you father.”**

They reached the dining hall. A cold feeling formed in the pits of his stomach. He can see his mother, talking with a maid as she bounces the child. He can’t see it, as Frigga's back is turned to him. Odin’s presence is notably absent, a small relief on Loki's part.

Thor notices his brother’s nerves, he pats him on the back and says, “You can do this Loki.” Then walks off to join his mother. He kisses his mothers cheek and smiles at the child. He picks her up, bouncing her a few times prompting a small laugh. Loki gimances at the sound.

Thor walks up to him with the baby.

“Loki, this is Y/n Odinson”

He looks at the child. He takes in its features, Beautiful curly hair, already thick and voluminous even at this age. Brown skin, unblemished and clean. Cheeks, chubby with baby fat. And...its eyes. Those damn eyes, he could barely stand it, (e/c) eyes, the same as his lost love. In fact, almost all it’s features that once belonged to his darling. A pain filled his body. He really couldn’t stand looking at this child.

Not when his beloved wasn’t there to gaze upon their child as well.

No, this was not his child. Not anymore.

“Get rid of it.”

Shock filled the faces of both Thor and Frigga.

“Loki you cannot be serious.”

“Brother..”

“I SAID GET RID OF IT” Loki shouts. “I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THAT LITTLE MONSTER.”

And with that he leaves the dining hall. Leaving behind his mother, brother and the last piece of his wife he had. He hears it’s cries fill the silence.

He had only one thought in his head as he entered his chambers.

“What am I supposed to do without you”

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#loki x daughter!reader #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #marvel x reader #thor x reader #thor odinson #loki imagine #angst #fanfic #mcu loki #mcu imagine #tom hiddleston #poc #poc reader #reader insert #Loki x poc!reader

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so-writing · 3 years

Text

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (17)

all parts here

“Please take these as a gift, from a Flames player, to a very appreciated, supported and loved Flames staffer, my fucking ass,” you said to yourself but brought the bottles into your apartment anyway.

If Matthew didn’t want to drink the wine and was going to gift it to you with some cheesy note, you were definitely going to help yourself, without thanking him though, because fuck him.

It was almost noon and you were starving but entirely unwilling to cook yourself something at home so you got dressed and headed out for your favorite little diner. The place was called ‘The Crispy Biscuit’ and you’d been frequenting it since you moved to Calgary. Thirty people in the dining room was pushing capacity but the food was excellent and you never minded waiting to be seated.

“Good afternoon, dear, haven’t seen you in a little bit,” one of your favorite servers, an older woman with a kind smile named Anna, greeted you warmly, “that hockey team must be keeping you busy!”

“Hey Anna, they’re doing their best but I’ll always find time to get here.”

The two of you exchanged pleasant small talk as she lead you to your table. Lucky for you, it wasn’t busy and you were able to be seated immediately.

“Unsweet tea with two lemons?”

“I can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing that I come here so often you know my drink order.”

“Maybe a little of both,” she gave you a quick wink and smile, “be right back with that.”

You knew what you were going to order, the grilled cheese sandwich and fry combo, but you looked over the menu anyway. It distracted you enough that you didn’t hear the door open and see the red mass of curls enter the restaurant.

“Hey, kiddo, how many for you today?”

“Just me.”

“First time here?”

“Yep, how’d you know?”

“I’d remember a head of hair as good as yours.”

Matthew had never been to ‘The Crispy Biscuit’ but he’d just completed an eight mile run and he was fucking hungry. The place seemed innocent enough, and he planned to treat himself to something outside his meal plan after that run, so he headed inside.

“Hey kiddo,” a kind older woman greeted him with a big smile, “how many for you today?”

“Just me.”

“First time here?”

How could she have known that? Matthew was skeptical but she was incredibly nice and he needed to eat as soon as he could.

“Yep, how’d you know?”

“I’d remember a head of hair as good as yours.”

He blushed at her comment and followed her to a booth against the wall. The restaurant wasn’t very busy and as soon as he was seated, his eyes were glued to the menu.

“Here, honey, water with lemon. Do you need a minute with the menu?”

He looked up for the first time and he froze when he saw her sitting in the next booth.

“Yes, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Thank you.”

What the fuck was she doing there? Of all places in Calgary, why was she there? He couldn’t catch a fucking break.

Anna set your iced tea in front of you and took your order.

“Ol’ reliable, yeah? I’ll put it in now dear."

Anna took your order to the kitchen and you passed the time by allowing yourself to swim in your thoughts until a voice you knew all too well pulled you to the surface.

“Thank you.”

Matthew fucking Tkachuk was sitting in the booth next to yours. Of course he fucking was, but what had you done to deserve it? As far as you knew, this was your place and your place alone. Matthew didn’t get to just come in and take over, especially after everything that had gone down between the two of you.

You kept your eyes down but felt his gaze on you and you knew he had seen you, just as you had seen him.

“Ready to order, dear?”

You heard Anna asking Matthew if he was ready but you couldn’t look up at either of them.

“I actually need another minute, but my friend is sitting at that booth, do you mind if I join her?”

“Are you one of those hockey players keeping her busy?”

“Yeah,” you didn’t see his soft smile, “guilty as charged.”

“Go on over and join her, this is her day off though, so be gentle.”

Your heart swelled at Anna’s words. She knew nothing about you other than the information you had divulged while sitting at one of her tables, information she didn’t have to remember or even care about but she did anyway.

The happiness you felt dissipated as soon as you heard Matthew slide into the booth across from you and set his water glass on the table.

“Hey.”

It was a risk and he knew it, but there she was.

The stars had aligned and he had to fucking go for it, because when would be a better time than now?

“My friend is sitting at that booth, do you mind if I join her?”

“Are you one of those hockey players keeping her busy?”

“Yeah,” shit, she talked about the team to this woman, “guilty as charged.”

“Go on over and join her, this is her day off though, so be gentle.”

Matthew quietly slid into the booth across from her and kept his eyes on her while she kept her own on her fingernails that she was picking at.

“She told me to be gentle, which I intend to be, but we’ve gotta talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Matthew. I was clear in my email.”

She still wasn’t willing to meet his eyes but at least she was responding, he was going to take that as a small victory.

“I know, I understand. You just want to be coworkers, and I want us to be together, so why don’t we compromise on something between? Friends?”

Another big risk, and a conclusion that he wasn’t entirely sure he had completely accepted, but it was all or nothing in that moment. She didn’t respond, but Anna saved them from the awkwardness by bringing two plates full of fries and grilled cheese sandwiches with ranch on the side.

“I figured I’d just double her order, since it’s your first time here and she’s a veteran, she knows what’s good. Is that okay?”

“That’s perfect, thank you.”

Fuck Matthew and his manners and his kindness and his shitty hockey play and his stupid feelings.

Fuck, did he really just say that?

“You want us to be together?”

You spat the question at him as you dipped a fry in the ranch and popped it into your mouth, “you really want that?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t fucking believe you, Tkachuk. Now, after that, I’m never going to believe a single thing you say.”

“Why not?”

This had to be an elaborate joke that the entire team, hell, maybe the entire Flames organization was in on.

“Why not?! Matthew, I don’t think you’re as stupid as I wish you were, so you can probably figure it out.”

The two of you sat in silence, eating together in the same booth while being a thousand miles apart mentally.

“This is why I’m offering to be friends. You’re pissed at me, I’ve been shitty to you for a long time and I know it and I’m sorry.”

“I don’t accept any of it. Not your apology and definitely not your feelings.”

He expected it, he was going to have to work for her and he was willing to, but that didn’t mean her initial rejection of him didn’t hurt.

“How is your grilled cheese? Hal uses garlic butter, garlic makes everything taste better.”

“It’s good, and I agree, garlic is the shit.”

“That’s one thing we can agree on, Matthew. Garlic is, indeed, the shit.”

She finished her food, excused herself from the table and left the restaurant twenty minutes before Matthew finished eating. He was aware of her departure this time, because he wasn’t going to make that mistake again, and he let her go without saying a word.

As soon as Matthew cleaned his plate, he took a photo and sent it.

It was reminiscent of your ‘date’ and you were so pissed off you had a hard time thinking straight.

It was a song you’d sang in the past, fuck him, fuck him, fuck. him. Matthew didn’t deserve you or anything to do with you.

You were perched on your couch as Onyx purred on your shoulder when he sent the message. It was a photo of his empty plate from the diner.

“Did they pump these sandwiches full of drugs? They’re fucking incredible! I hope you don’t mind me becoming a regular.”

Of course you minded, but you didn’t want anything to do with Matthew fucking Tkachuk.

You didn’t respond to his message, because as much as you hated him and wanted nothing to do with him, you just couldn’t commit to letting him go.

Study questions at the end the chapter (lol school): (1) Is she better off with Matt? (2) Is she better off alone? (3) Should she end up with Brady? (4) How do you want this to end? -- send all answers to ask

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #matt tkachuk #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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just-another-ficwriter · 3 years

Text

Holidate - Part One

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader

Words: 3000ish

Warnings: Overbearing parents, alcohol

Summary: Tired of being alone on holidays, Sweet Pea and Y/N decide to be each other’s plationic plus-ones all year round. What could go wrong?

Notes: I’m super late posting this and I feel awful about it!! I just couldn’t decide how I wanted it to go and ended up rewriting it three times🤦🏻‍♀️

“No Mom.” Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose, irritation seeping into her words. There’s already a dull ache drumming behind her temples and she hasn’t even made it home yet. “I’m not using this as an excuse because I’m running late.”

“Well I simply can’t just drop everything and come get you, I’ve got to stuff the Turkey and cut the vegetables and-“ She lets her Mother’s voice drowned out into background noise with a frustrated sigh on her end.

She hates Christmas, she thinks. Hates the decorations, the songs, the cheer. Every last bit. Nothing’s been the same since the truth came out about Hal and-

“Is Jug there?” She cuts her own thoughts short, desperate not to think of her Dad and all the things he’s done right now.

“Of course Forsyth is here!” Y/N can almost see Jug flinch at the correction and bites back a laugh. “But him and Betty have already opened a bottle of wine.”

“Can you just ask him for the number of his Dad’s garage please?” Another five minutes of Alice rambling on passes before Jughead’s voice appears on the other end with a joyful ‘Merry Christmas’ and a direct contact to someone who might be able to help.

She thanks him quickly, hanging up before she can even finish saying goodbye, so he doesn’t have a chance to hand the phone back. And as she leans against the car behind her, the same car that had given up on her just as she passed the town sign, she dials the number and hopes she’ll make it home in time for dinner.

Otherwise, she might never hear the end of it.

“Again, in English?” Y/N cocks an eyebrow at him, the string of words he’d just said sounding almost foreign in her head.

She doesn’t mean for it to sound as rude as it does, but she can’t help it. She’s tired, exhausted even, not to mention cold. The snow fall had picked up five minutes after she’d called the number Jug had given her and it had taken him, or Sweet Pea as he’d introduced himself, almost 40 minutes to reach her.

But he just laughs it off, smirks before firing it straight back at her. “You aren’t getting anywhere in this car, anytime soon princess.”

“Great!” It’s official. Her mom’s going to kill her and she’ll be blamed for ruining Christmas. She throws her hands up in defeat, kicking a tyre in the process. “Just great!”

“If it makes you feel better, this isn’t how I planned on spending my Christmas Eve either.” He watches her amused, another laugh passing his lips before the sarcastic remark follows, his arms now crossed over his chest and she almost feels guilty.

“I’m sorry for being such an inconvenience.” She throws a false apology at him along with a fake grin that falls into a frown almost immediately.

“Apology accepted.” She’s scowling at him now, eyes rolling back but he simply ignores it, happy to keep winding her up. “Want me to give you a ride somewhere while I tow this back?”

“Only on one condition.” She points a finger over her shoulder towards his trunk, the radio still on loud. “We find a station that isn’t playing Christmas music.”

“Hey, it’s either Mariah Carey, or you walk Sweetheart.” He shrugs, walking backwards, watching her make the choice.

He can’t help but laugh again when she sighs and runs to the passenger seat, desperate to seek shelter from the snow.

10 minutes after Sweet Pea kindly drops her off at her childhood home, Y/N finds herself still on the porch out front, mentally preparing herself for what’s about to come.

She sucks in a breath. Two, three. And with a fake smile so sickly sweet it makes her stomach hurt; she lets herself in.

Polly’s the first to spot her, catches her the minute she walks through the door and pulls her into a hug before she can even drop her bags. She can’t help but sink into the embrace, it’s always nice to see her older sister alone like this, but Y/N doesn’t even get the chance to ask her how she is before the twins descend down the stairs and push past them in a blur.

“Juniper put the presents down- Dagwood no!” She feels Polly gently squeeze her hand in a silent way of saying they’ll catch up later before she’s chasing after them, joining an exhausted looking Jason who pauses long enough to wave a quick hello before he resumes pursuit.

She moves further into the house, away from the chaos of the living room and towards the interesting smells wafting from the kitchen. It’s impossible not to hear her Mother barking orders from where she stands over the stove, while Jug and Betty listen to every word, working on the dining table and it’s fixtures like a well-oiled machine.

“Y/N/N you’re here!” Betty looks up with a soft smile but doesn’t dare move from her task and face the wrath of Alice Cooper.

“Finally!” It’s Alice’s turn to look at her now, a perfectly shaped eyebrow arching in distaste as her eyes roam over her middle daughter. “Please tell me you aren’t wearing that to dinner?”

Y/N lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and prepares to fire back when a gentle arm lands around her shoulder with a calming chuckle.

“Oh come on Mom, Y/N looks fine.” Charles plants a quick kiss to her forehead before ruffling her hair and they both laugh. Her brother had always been her saving grace in situations like this, the only one brave enough to stand up for himself and the others, ever the mediator. But not even he was enough to put Alice off her persistent questioning, she was already sick of her Mother’s judgement and they hadn’t even touched on her job or her relationship status yet.

“You’ve definitely told them we aren’t officially together, right?” Sweet Pea takes one last, slow drag of his cigarette before stomping it out under his boot. Josie nods at him reassuringly but one look up at the exterior of her parents house has his stomach in knots. “They know we’re just casual?”

“Sweet Pea would you stop?” She playfully pokes at his ribs, but he just sighs and rubs a nervous hand down his face.

He couldn’t help it, that sick feeling rising from the pit of stomach by the second. The idea of spending Christmas with Josie’s family, a girl he’d only been dating for a month, was absolutely terrifying on all levels. But Fangs had ditched him to spend the holidays with his boyfriend in New York, not that he could really blame him, and he had no other family in town so when she originally offered, he’d jumped at the chance of not spending the day alone.

Part of him had regretted it since.

If Sweet Pea thought the outside of house was impressive, with it’s perfectly placed lights and overly decorated windows, it was nothing compared to what was waiting for him on the inside.

Myles and Sierra McCoy welcome them at the front door with bright smiles and open arms that engulf Sweet Pea before he even has the chance to say hello.

Josie joins in, the four of them becoming one big, massive group hug like he’s been part of their family his whole life and not just a stranger potentially only passing through. All three of them squeal in excitement before someone yanks him in doors.

If he had doubts before, he thinks, he’s almost certain he’s in over his head now.

Betty gets engaged on Christmas Morning.

Right in front of the Christmas tree, just after the last presents are opened and the twins are happily distracted by a mountain of toys; Jughead drops to one knee and pops the question under twinkling lights.

The minute Betty gasps the word ‘yes’ the family erupts in cheers, fawning over the couple. Of course Alice is already crying, Polly demands to see the ring, while Charles and Jason pat Jug on the back.

Y/N however stays put, her eyes falling down into her mug of spiked coffee that her mom had scolded her over, eyebrows raised over the rim as she knocks it back.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate your sister?” Alice sends her a pointed look, catching her before she can slope off into the peaceful confines of the kitchen.

“Congrats Betts.” She pulls her into a hug and paints on the biggest smile she can muster as she mumbles into her hair. “I’m so happy for you.”

And she is. Her sisters getting everything she’s dreamed of with Jug, of course she’s happy, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that her younger sister will be married before her.

Even Charles has betrayed her this year and invited a date to Christmas dinner leaving her the last single Cooper. And her mom wasn’t prepared to let her forget it anytime soon.

Sweet Pea successfully manages to make it through family movie night, forcefully sat between Josie and her mother, hot cocoa in hand and surrounded from all sides. He even grins and bares the series of photo albums that follow, another embarrassing photo of Josie lurking behind every page turn, but he draws the line when the marriage talk starts, declaring he’s suddenly tired and turns to run up the stairs so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t pull something on the way.

Sienna wakes them up on Christmas morning with a soft knock at 8am sharp, wearing a bright red Christmas jumper and holding two more for the both them.

The mere idea of it makes Sweet Pea’s skin itch as much as the material does once he begrudgingly pulls it over his head.

The rest of the morning is spent sipping coffee, watching the three McCoy’s exchanging gifts. He’s too distracted, wondering if it’s still too late to find a way out of the whole thing to even notice Josie standing in front of him until she’s shoved the present right under his nose.

“Merry Christmas my love.” She places it down on his lap and Sweet Pea finds himself wanting the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Jose I… I thought we said we weren’t doing gifts?” All three pairs of eyes are now on him, burning their way into his skin and he’s sure he’s never felt embarrassment like it.

“But that was just a joke, right?” He smiles awkwardly when she laughs, but the sound is humourless, and he can already see the anger bubbling behind her eyes. She doesn’t even give him the chance to reply. “What, so I’m good enough to sleep with but you can’t buy me a gift?”

He chokes, shocked by her transparency around her parents while his cheeks redden by the second.

Ten minutes later he’s out on the drive, bags thrown in the back of his truck, scrambling to get away as fast as he can.

Christmas Day ends the way it started.

Miserably sat at the kitchen table, sipping on something alcoholic held in her hand.

Polly and Jason had slipped off not long after dinner, taking two sugar high kids and all their loud noises with them. Betty and Jug now sit on one couch, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, her head resting on her chest, content in their own bubble of love while Alice sits on the other, quizzing Kevin Keller, Charles’ surprise date. She’d feel bad for him if she wasn’t already feeling relieved that her Mother’s attention had turned to someone else for five minutes. Her brother sits besides her, topping up a glass of red.

“He seems nice.” Charles hums in response, biting back a laugh. Was she missing a joke? “What?”

“If I tell you something, you can’t tell the others.” A quick eager nod and she’s shuffling closer so he can whisper his secret. “Kev’s just my Holidate.”

She blinks back in shock. “Holidate?”

“Just a date for the holiday, someone to keep Mom off my back.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, like it’s the simplest solution to the problem. He sips his wine while he waits for her to process it. “There’s no strings attached and I don’t have to spend events alone. I’m even heading down to his parents after New Years to return the favour.”

“Thats...” Y/N breathes out, she’s a little envious she hadn’t thought of it herself. “What an idea.”

Y/N sinks into a booth at Pop’s Chocklit Shoppe two days later with a sigh of relief, happy to welcome the peace that comes with being away from her family.

She loves them, her siblings, her mother, the twins, of course but it’s exhausting. The intruding questions, the never ending merry go round of pity and interfering. She knows deep down it’s only because they care, but sometimes she wished they’d just leave her alone.

Pops promptly brings her order of curly fries over, with a soft smile and an extra chocolate shake on the side she didn’t order. It’s been two years since she last stepped into the place, yet he still remembers her favourite like it was yesterday.

“It’s good to see you Y/N.” There’s something in his tone that just feels like home and she finds herself welcoming it, it’s been a long time since anything in Riverdale has felt anything close to that, not since the truth about her dad.

Pops doesn’t stick around, a light pat to her shoulder before he’s a retreating form, leaving her to her thoughts. She barely makes it through a fry before someone’s sliding in opposite her.

Sweet Pea pushes the key across the table, grinning cheekily as he helps himself to the basket in front of him. She barely knows him and he’s already stealing her food. “One fully functional car.”

“Finally!” She snatched them up, hiding them

in her bag and he can see the tension practically melting from her shoulders. “Now I can get out of the hell hole.”

“Christmas went that well? He asks, curiosity peaked.

“You could say that.” She presses herself further into her seat, huffing as she rubs the palm of her hands against her jeans. The anxious look in her eyes tells him that what ever she might say next won’t necessarily make sense and she’s a little embarrassed by it. “My sister got engaged.”

“To FPS son right?” He vaguely recalls his boss proudly telling anyone who would listen that morning. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“She’s my younger sister, and now, as I’m about to be the only official unmarried Cooper daughter my mom has even more of an excuse to interfere in my love life.” The words just slip out and she finds part of her gladly confessing her thoughts to a virtual stranger instead of keeping them in. He smiles in a way that tells her he gets it.

“Yeah well, bet you a chocolate shake mine was worse.” He ignores the glare she sends him when he innocently brings her existing milkshake to his lips and continues when she says nothing. “I spent it with someone I’ve been dating for four weeks and her parents.”

She almost chokes on a curly fry. “You got serious that quick?”

“Of course not, and we both knew it.” She stares at him like he has two heads, he knows she can’t quite fit ‘causal relationship’ and ‘family Christmas’ together so he does it for her. “Didn’t want to spend the day alone so I took her up on the offer. Cue overbearing parents, the cringest matching jumpers and the ultimate gift exchange where I got her nothing because we agreed no presents.”

“Aren’t you old enough to know by now that no gifts definitely means get her a gift?” She laughs when he rolls his eyes.

“Ended with her kicking me out before dinner.” She shakes her head, laughs again as she calls him tragic and a tiny part of him agrees. “And now I’m officially dateless for New Year’s Eve.”

“Thanks for reminding me I have to come back in a few days to attend Riverdale’s Annual Blossom New Years Eve Party alone for the second year running.” She wrinkles her nose in disgusted, unprepared to have her friends on her back as well as her family, and ends up missing the way his eyebrows raise in surprise.

“You know Toni and Cheryl?”

“T’s been my best friend longer than I can remember and Cheryl’s brother is married to my sister, guess you could say I know them pretty well.” She tilts her head to the side, eying him slowly, like she suddenly sees him in a different way. “How’d you know them?”

“Guess you could say I spend more time than I should at the Wyrm.” The mention of Toni’s bar lights up her face. “Plus Toni’s been a really good friend to me since I got here, I was actually meant to be taking Josie to their party.”

“I think I know a way to solve our little problem.” A plan suddenly forms in her head, he doesn’t know whether to be worried or not as he watches the smile on her face widen. “Sweet Pea how would you like to be my Holidate this Friday?”

“Your holi-what?”

Forever Taglist: @p-marie-sp

Sweet Pea Taglist: @80sand90simagine @wildberryyyy @hopelesslylosttheway @be-gay-do-crime-cutie

Holidate Taglist: @popcrone818

#riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale sweet pea #riverdale fanficton #riverdale series #riverdale au #riverdale edit #riverdale one shot #sweet pea #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea riverdale #sweet pea au #sweet pea fanfiction #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea one shot #sweet pea edit #sweet pea series #holidate #Holidate au

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ariesbilly · 2 years

Note

I'm the anon who sent you that Parentdale Fantasy Boy Draft question back in December. Now, I'm going to expand on that question some more. What dates can you see each pairing go on? You can use whatever you saw on OTH, or make up your own. It's up to you :)

ok so as per the episode the girls have to pick the date (also heres the last message for anyone out of the loop) wait i just realized the girls didnt pick the dates in the episode.... well some did... anyway...:

alice and marty- alice is 100% trying to bail and just stays home but marty was very excited about getting drafted and having a date night.. with anyone... so after like 2 hours of waiting he shows up at alices house like “uh... we have a date ....” and alice keeps rejecting him but then marty pulls out the fact that if alice doesnt go out on this date hes gonna tell the other girls and then theyll be pissed at her and probably get back at her in some heinous way and finally alice is like FINE she’ll go on the date. they end up going to the bijou and alice has to buy marty popcorn and a slurpee and sit through some terrible action movie she hates for 2 hours

penelope and hal - penelope sets up a big romantic dinner at her house cuz shes supposed to have it to herself for the night and she fully plans on wining and dining hal and hooking up with him except hal is completely oblivious to her flirting and the romantic set up and just spends the whole night talking about alice to the point where penelope is heavily considering slitting her wrists

sierra and tom- go to a nice restaurant and drive to some romantic spot after and stargaze and makeout its all very sweet and wholesome

hermione and rando- trip to the mall where hermione has rando senior guy buying her a bunch of shit

mary and fp- i think they should get peyton and mouths go kart date!!!! fun time for all. minus the sad old man with dementia.... although.... actually you know what yeah reverse it so marys like “oh i just wanna go check on my grandpa first at the nursing home cuz i usually visit him on this night” and fps like yeah ok whatever. and marys grandpas got dementia but he still remembers bits and pieces of his life like he used to race cars and fp thinks thats dope as shit and they end up getting along really well and fps like we should bust this guy out of here and take him on an adventure and marys like uhhh i dont know about that... and fps like nah its fine lets go. so they go on the go karts and grandpas having the time of his life racing around like ye olden days and then mary and fp can have a serious moment later where fps like maybe forgetting your life isnt so bad cuz you can forget all the bad shit that happened and marys like nah man that sucks i wanna be able to remember all the good shit wow i should write this fic actually....

gladys and fred- i think they should grab burgers to go from pops and then hit up sweetwater and get high and go skinny dipping just cuz i think thats fun and they should be allowed to do that platonically. :)

#briana answers things

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skruffyfairy · 3 years

Text

the suicide journalist , Chris Morris https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwiA8C6oiJo

Susie and a thin man found me in the park. I was walking slowly round the pond, making the bones in my nose tickle by hooting. Susie said my mother had tipped her off, after hearing my voice while throwing stones at the ducks. I had been there a day and a half. "It's because of my job," I explained, "batch testing New Age CD's." "But Hal said he didn't hire you in the end," she said. "That would explain why he hasn't paid me." The thin man with Susie coughed up a small laugh, and spat it onto the ground. "You'd better come to dinner on Saturday," Susie said. "Clive will be there too." She squeezed the man's arm. "Clive is the suicide journalist." He was ghostly pale, with black hair and a sad wit in his eyes. I'd say he looked like John Cusack, if I could remember who the hell John Cusack was. As he gazed moodily at the pond, Susie explained that Clive had announced in his weekly column that he had six months to live. On April the fifteenth, he would be committing suicide, and until then he would write about how it felt to be staring death in the face. Clive took aout a notebook and muttered something about the blackness of a moorhen. "Do you know what month it is now?" she asked. I thought it might be Martober. Susie dabbed a damp eye, and said that the suicide column was the saddest, funniest, most tragic and uplifting thing she'd ever read. "He has just twelve weeks to go." I looked across the pond and started honking again. Susie turned to collect Clive, who was puffing on three cigarettes and smirking at his notes. "Eight or late with a good excuse," she crooned, and popped a sweet in my mouth. I arrived well after dark. A smart woman opened the door. "I couldn't afford a bottle of wine," I said, "so I've drawn one on a piece of cardboard." I had prepared for the party by eating half a jar of instant coffee I'd found in the bins at Sainsbury's. She took my cardboard and said "That's brilliant. Could I use you in a programme?" When I asked her what sort of programme, she said "I could make a whole series about the things people bring to parties." "What do you do?" I said, thinking of the window at Dixon's. "My name' s Hosanna Bell. I work in the warm arts." We stepped past Susie's yachting gear and into the dining room. Seven people sat noisily round a large bowl of oysters, but Susie wasn't a single one of them. I thought I was at the wrong party, until they explained that the whole point was to be late, but with a good excuse. "Why are YOU late?" they asked. I said I'd had no money for a bottle of wine, and the homeless bloke at the tube station who normally subs me a couple of quid because he says I look worse off than his dog was being mugged when I asked him this time and hadn't given me a penny, and then I'd got lost whether Susie's house was directly opposite some trees, or directly opposite no trees at all. Several conversations had started by the time I got to that bit. Susie arrived to great squeals and kisses. She announced that she had spent the last three hours in bestial congress with a junior cabinet minister. Gobs hung open, because everyone had thought he was gay, and several of them also knew that he was her half-brother. She wore a grin as big as a harbour. "Do you think Clive is still coming?" said a sincere man in glasses, and the talk turned at once to his column. Hosanna Bell said she had seen more truth in Clive's writing than the entire works of any writer she could think of. A woman called Emma agreed. "I'm still reeling. I don't know whether to weep, laugh, throw up or hug everybody." "That's just your protein rush," observed a man called Paddy, pointing to the seventeen shells on her plate. Emma touched his leg. Paddy was Clive's editor, and was busy milking the table by mildly deprecating the praise for Clive's column, so people doubled it in protest. He was just declaring that the columns would have to be polished up for the book, when swearing in the hall announced the arrival of Clive. He looked a bit drunk, and seemed small with his coat off. He said he was sorry he was late, but actually he didn't give a fuck. Everyone laughed, except Paddy. Susie said "This brilliant man has asked me if you would all take it easy on the suicide questions tonight," and helped him liberally to bivalves. We nodded, of course, and I asked him if he thought oysters could commit suicide. Susie glared at me. I said I was just wondering if an oyster could make a decision like that, and if so, how it would die, because it couldn't really hang itself. "Are you being weird, or sarcastic?" said Emma. I didn't know, because I get the two feelings mixed up. She called me a plankton, and started telling Clive about the time she had cut her wrists. "Look at my scars," she said. "They are beautiful, but not as beautiful as your columns." For some reason, Clive looked at me as he said "Only the very ugly is truly beautiful. And if the printed word has any meaning, then it must come from the very edge of fuckybumbooboo." There were titters. Paddy muttered something about Clive alienating his fans, but was cut off by Emma. "No, Clive has every right to be drunk. You are in masses of pain, Clive. You are doing it for us." "Yes," agreed Hosanna. Clive asked her what the hell she knew. "In the warm arts, we're strong on people power," she said, "and what you have done in volunteering to take your own life is illuminate with poignant resonance the self destructor in all of us." There was a ripple of applause. Clive, who had been sousing his oysters in vodka and setting them alight before hurling them down his throat, now added a cigarette to the turmoil, and belched the word "bollocks." Paddy banged the table, and started telling Clive that if all he could do was get pissed and shove drugs up his bum for the last twelve columns, he would lose all his priceless empathy. "This is the finest copy I've ever commisioned," he said, "and I'm not having it ruined by some jumped-up little floozy going all diddums." A man called Stitt said that Paddy was threatening the purity of Clive's columns. "If he uses the bottle, then that should come through in his work." "But he'll end up writing about you lot!" said Paddy. Suddenly all the guests were telling Clive about the time they'd nearly topped themselves. Hosanna Bell described how she'd been suicidal for six months after giving birth, until she'd decided to sue her baby for what it had done to her figure. Clive was insulting everyone and writing notes on his cuffs. "Losers! Crap attempt!" he shouted. "I want something that actually works." Someone said hosepipes work. Clive knew a bloke in a garden centre in Maidstone who actually cuts them to length for your particular car. He said the people carrier length hose was the most popular. "Wow," said Hosanna Bell, now also scribbling feverishly. "So then, Mr Superstar," Paddy was saying, "what is the best way to kill yourself?" Clive said that in fact the best way he knew was to buy 200 foot nylon rope, tie one end round your neck, the other round a lamp post, and get into your car and floor the accelerator. He said that's how his great-uncle had done it. He'd made Clive help him. He was just nine years old. And he'd had to ride in the car and stop it crashing when his uncle's head came off. The blood had made the pedals very slippery. Clive blinked, smarting eyes. The table fell silent. "Really?" said Paddy, genuinely shocked. "Of course not, you moron!" brayed Clive, and went on to explain that we were all idiots, he could say anything and we'd lap it up, just because we thought his pain meant something, how we wouldn't give him a second thought if he wasn't going to kill himself, except that actually he wasn't anyway, because the whole thing was a hoax, and he was going to say so in his column next week. Paddy erupted, and decked Clive with the oyster bowl. Then he stood over him, roaring that this was his f***ing idea, Clive had agreed to do it, and he wasn't going to wriggle out of killing himself now, not now there was a book. Clive crawled from the room. The general opinion was that Clive had just treated us to his most savage and moving cry for help yet. We had all understimated his pain. "I feel choked up now," said Emma, "but if I read about next week, I'll be crying for the rest of the year." "Someone bring me a f***ing fag." Clive's voice sounded glutinous. Susie gestured to me, as everyone else was still debating the meaning of his actions. He lay on the floor, two regurgitated oysters a tongue's length from his leaking mouth - one of them still slightly alive. His nose seemed a better place for the cigarette. The caustic fumes revived him, and he stumbled to his feet. "I'm going out," he said "I'm going to break into a car, and drive around drunk until I crash." As he lunged past me into the hall, his foot snagged on a rope among Susie's boat bags, and he fell on the sea grass. We both looked at the large coil of blue nylon. "Are you good at knots?" he said. Susie's car keys were hanging by the front door. "You might as well use the Discovery," I said. "She'll be so thrilled to have a new story." About an hour later, I revealed that Clive hadn't just gone for a walk. He'd gone to divorce his head. And how I'd helped him with the keys and the knots. I needed to go to sleep, and had correctly anticipated that Paddy would punch my lights out.

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m00nslippers · 5 years

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okay two things. 1) imagine talia sleeping w/ jason never happened and he’s basically still a virgin. how do you think everyone would react to that? and 2) how do you think everyone would react once they found out jason’s a bottom in the au where everyone has a crush on him

Well, Jason isn’t a virgin now. He and essence had a bit of a thing but it never got very far because no one in the All-Caste approved. He had a short fling with Rose later and she was very dominant as well as more experienced, so he sort of just ended up taking the more submissive role naturally in that relationship and it may have imprinted on him a bit. The next person he had a thing with was Kori when the Outlaws first formed. She was very upset that her relationship with Dick was over after he left her at the alter, justwhen she’d finally thought they’d be together forever. Jason wanted to comfort her and she’s a very physical person, so it turned into sex, which they both enjoyed, but again Kori was more experienced of the two so he was more submissive there as well.

So after that, Kori and Roy began dating and Jason was such a very patient third wheel that they both simultaneously had thoughts about including him but Roy didn’t mention it at first, even though he knew Kori was fairly open with relationships because he wasn’t sure about Jason’s sexuality, whether he’d feel comfortable participating or even just letting Roy watch while Jason was with Kori, which Roy would have also been into. But Kori isn’t shy and she brought it up first when she noticed Roy giving Jason more and more interested looks on occasion, they both decided they would feel comfortable inviting him to have sex with him.

Jason usually catches the hint pretty early when Kori and Roy would get ‘in the mood’ and made himself scarce, but one day when he made to leave, they stopped him and asked if he wanted to stay and be involved. And Jason was very confused, like um, really? You both like me? Both want me? He felt so honored that they would care about him and trust him enough to want that, though it took some convincing on their part that it wasn’t pity sex, that they genuinely found him attractive and both wanted to engage in sex with him. So Roy was the first guy Jason had ever been with and he’d been pretty open to everything from the start. Again Jason was more submissive since it was their relationship and he was more of a guest. Jason never actually dated them, they had the romantic relationship and his with them was mostly platonic.

After that he had short flings and one night stands and in some of those he was more dominant, but he’s actually kind of used to being submissive during sex and he associates it with comfort and people he trusts. So he’s not really a virgin in terms of sex itself–but in terms of an actual relationship he totally is!

Not many people actually realize this about Jason. Since he’s so dang attractive, they think he must have had tons of relationships, but he’s an absolute dating newb. Even with Isabel they went on like two dates, that’s it. She was the first person he actually tried to date in a normal way, but she didn’t want to deal with the vigilante thing so it didn’t go very far. But Jason with dates is super traditional and tries to wine and dine people because all he knows about dating is from old black and white movies, and Bruce taking models out on the town when he was a kid, pretty much.

Kori and Roy’s idea of a date was beating up bad guys together and then eating Jason’s cooking on the couch while Roy tinkered and Kori watched Space Soaps, and that felt bizarrely chill to him. Jason thinks a date is supposed to be Mr. Darcy courting Lizzie Bennet, like romantic horse rides on the beach, picnics on a cliff with wine and gourmet sandwiches, and fancy restaurants and a night at the opera and junk. Like friends with benefits is one thing, but dating ought to be special, right? Otherwise what’s the difference between that and friends? That’s his thought process anyway. So he’s actually very stressed out about the idea of dating someone for real because doing it properly in his mind seems so overwhelming a task.

Honestly? The only people who really know this about Jason are the other batkids and Kori and Roy–because they’d be telling him about their dates and such and here Jason is over here with a very critical expression, like that’s what you guys did on a date? Just hung out and fought about what to watch on Netflix and ordered pizza? And they’re just like, well what would you do on a date? And he explains his very over-the-top ideas of what a date should be and they just…laugh at him, usually. Tim, Steph and Dick found the whole thing to be hilarious, that Jason was nursing such a cute idea of what dating was, and here Jason is just blushing and feeling so embarrassed though he’s not sure why, it seems perfectly understandable to him. And he doesn’t really say anything to let them know, but them laughing at him actually hurt him a bit and now he’s even more scared to date because everything he thinks dating is supposed to be is apparently laughable and he’s just very confused and lost about the whole thing, so he doesn’t talk about it. If people ask he usually just says he doesn’t really date because that’s easier than actually considering dating.

Now, what do people think of Jason bottoming? Well…

*Hal, swaggers into the Watchtower cafeteria and sits down next to Hawkwoman and Supergirl who look up from their food, curious.*

Hal, looking incredibly smug: So…I just heard from Barry, who heard from Wally who heard from Dick who heard from Roy that Jason…is a bottom!

Shayera, rolling her eyes: Psh, I could have told you that.

Hal, betrayed: WHAT? Then why didn’t you?!

Shayera, raising a brow: And why should you have been privy to that information?

Hal, pouting: Because it’s sexy as fuck?

Kara, ignoring them both, her eyes huge and glazed over: Oh my god…oh my god…

Hal, smirking and nodding: Yup! This girl gets it!

Kara, nearly hyperventilating, caught up in her fantasies: …my big-titted beefcake…my stacked snack…my thick, thunder-thighed hotty…blushing and squirming underneath me as I milk him dry…

Shayera, blushing as she nearly chokes on her food: Hey, I’m trying to eat here, people!

Kara, swooning: …*passes out*

Hal, shocked, hands raised as if to deny responsibility: Woah–I don’t think Kryptonians are supposed to do that!

Shayera, scowling: Dammit Hal, you broke her!

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forevermyalwaysphff · 4 years

Text

Chapter 10

A/N: Here is the next the chapter! I’m so excited to share this with you, I hope you enjoy it

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Alexa was holding her belly, laughing hard at Harry while she talked to him over the phone. Her heels clicked along the London cobble stoned street towards a local cafe she was meeting Hallie and Naomi at for lunch and well needed catch up with her close friends.

“Harry! Please stop!” She giggled uncontrollably, hearing his laughter mix with hers across the phone line. Suddenly, she grew quiet and listened to his purely infectious laughed that she found herself missing more and more with each passing day.

Harry was in the middle of exams, focusing all of his time on studying the materials he required to pass them leaving no time for a trip back to London to see Alexa until the weekend came along. For now, phone calls like this one would have to satisfy them until then.

“How’s my girlfriend doing over there? She seems to have gotten quiet.” His deep husky voice swooned over the phone.

Alexa halted her steps before cutting through a crowd of pedestrians to find a small pathway between to buildings to allow more privacy to talk with the prince. “You know, as I recall...” Alexa cleared her throat and leaned up against a red brick building. “I do not seem to remember that you actually asked me to be your girlfriend, only that you fancy me.” She teased him with a spreading smile forming on her lips.

“Is that so?” The prince chuckled lightly and sighed. “Alexa, you already know that you are.” She could tell that he was shaking his head at her, even over the phone.

“Say it then.” Alexa egged him on, wanting to hear it come from him first that they were indeed an official couple.

“Lex...” Harry’s voice paused for a moment. “I will, when I see you this weekend and get to see that beautiful smile of yours and watch those green eyes light up while you are in my arms.” He let the words sink in for Alexa to imagine. “Then... I will kiss those soft lips of yours until you beg me to stop. How does that sound?”

Alexa’s mouth betrayed her and released a tiny moan giving Harry all he needed for an answer. “I can’t wait til then....”

“Me too, babe.” He cleared his throat. “I will be back before you know it. I have already made you late for lunch with Hallie and Naomi.”

“Ok. Good luck on your exam this afternoon.” Alexa stepped forward back onto the side walk, seeing the cafe with in eyes view. “I know you will pass with flying colours.” She could not help herself, cracking a pun at Harry’s expense.

“Really Alexa?” He groaned deeply. “Flying... colours. You shouldn’t quit your day job gorgeous.” Harry giggled lightly.

“I am hilarious and you know it Wales.” Alexa waved at her friends through the cafe window. “Im at the cafe now. I have to go.”

“Bye, Lex.”

“Bye boyfriend.” Alexa smiled brightly, hearing Harry’s laughter before ending the call.

———————-

“Ok spill the beans, Alexa.” Hallie sipped on her tea.

“What do you mean?” Alexa lowered her head feeling the eyes of both of her friends Hallie and Naomi on her. It had been too long since they had gotten together with their busy schedules and lives so Alexa made time for them on a quick lunch break during the work week.

Naomi put her fork down and shared a knowing look with Hallie. “Oh come on. You have been glowing and smiling from ear to ear since the moment you have arrived.”

Alexa breathed in with a smile. It was true, ever since Harry and Alexa had unofficially officially became a couple she was in a state of constant happiness. Not only did she feel it, but it also showed on the outside.

“Alright, alright.” She beamed falling into a brief silence. “I met someone.”

Namoi and Hallie squealed with delight, but already knew that was potentially the case. “Who is he?! Where did you two meet? Have you two done it yet?” Hallie bombarded the blonde with question after question.

“Ya, what she said.” Naomi leaned in from across the table with a curious glint in her eyes.

“Hallie!” Alexa started to giggle at how forward Hallie was being, but she honestly was not surprised.

“Or I could just text Alice. I am sure she knows exactly who it is!” Hallie whipped out her phone pretending to type.

“No! No!” Alexa’s hand stretched out across the table pushing Hallie’s phone down. “I can tell you, god you haven’t given me a second to even answer!” She shook her head at her friends.

“We met at Eugenie’s engagement party.” Alexa smiled fondly at the memory of locking eyes with Harry from across the bar, the moment that started it all. “We took things a bit slow at least we tried too.” She tossed her head back in laughter. “But, now we are officially a couple and I haven’t felt this happy in a long time.” Saying it out loud made it feel more real for Alexa. She was officially Harry’s girlfriend and it made her happier than ever.

“Awe!” They said in unison.

“I can tell you are so happy, Alexa!” Naomi was brushing away tears of happiness.

“Awe Noe, don’t cry!” Alexa reached across the table to comfort her always-emotional friend that was a hopeless romantic. Maybe that was why she had become a wedding planner.

“I am sorry!” Naomi waved her hands in front of her face drying the tears. “You deserve to be so happy.”

Hallie giggled at Naomi. “Get a grip, it’s not like she is going to be ditching wine Wednesdays with us, right?!”

“Oh hell no!” Alexa covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Well when can we meet the lucky guy?” Hallie pipped in and gave Alexa that look she had when she was about to freely speak her mind. “You know he better not be an aristo again, you just need an ordinary guy that is not complicated to wine and dine you.”

Alexa nearly choked on her glass of wine as Hallie stated what was on her mind. Little did she know that Harry was completely opposite of an ‘ordinary guy’ that was far from ‘not complicated.’ Hallie had always been the protective one in the group and was the tough friend to win over. She trusted her gut when it came to judging people and nearly every time, she was right.

“Easy, I don’t want to scare him away!” Alexa diverted Hallie’s comment and lightened the mood, wanting to turn the conversation elsewhere. “When do you leave on your trip Hal?”

The conversation turned away from Alexa’s new relationship as the three of the friends caught up with their lives with one another. Hallie and Alexa bonded the very first day of university. Having met at a freshman tour of the campus together, the two of them ditched the tour and found themselves sharing multiple bottles of wine. Later finding out that they were to share a dorm together and have been close ever since.

Naomi Edwards and Alexa’s relationship went almost as far back as Princess Eugenie’s and Alexa’s. Having been friends since elementary school, Naomi was a close confidant of the blondes. The Edwards family even took care of Alexa and her siblings periodically when their parents needed to stay at the hospital with Rosie. They always made them feel included in their family. Alexa would often make a point to go visit Naomi’s mother after her husband passed last year.

The thought of introducing Harry to her friends was weighing heavily on Alexa’s mind. The couple did not have much time to talk about their new relationship since Harry had to leave to go back to base the day after they became official. A lot of things needed to be discussed, but had been put to the side after a busy week waiting for the next time they would see each other again.

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Alexa was at Eugenie’s apartment in Kensington Palace with her mother Sarah, watching Eugenie stand on a little pedestal as the designer explained the dress he envisioned in his mind.

Eugenie had pushed back deciding on a designer until the last minute and chose to go with Peter Piloto, a less known London designer. After having a lengthy discussion with Princess Eugenie about the vision she wanted her dress to portray, Peter walked the three of them through the details of the dress.

“Can we make the back a bit open?” Eugenie twirled back around to face her mother and Alexa. “I want my scar to be shown.”

Peter took a step back with a tilted head as he thought of how to incorporate the Princess’s wish. “I could do that.” He stepped forward and offered his hand to allow the Princess to step down off the pedestal safely. “May I draw what I am thinking for you Eugenie?”

“Yes! Of course!” Eugenie nodded with excitement. Peter sat down inbetween Eugenie and Alexa as he started to sketch the dress right before them.

Alexa looked across to Eugenie and saw her face beaming with happiness and was almost in tears when Peter finished drawing the dress of her dreams. The style would fit Eugenie so well and followed the royal bride’s protocols closely. It was classical, timeless, but was completely what Eugenie would wear with her own personal flare added in.

“I love it!” Eugenie squealed with excitement. Her green eyes immediately darted towards her close friend Alexa and her mother. “What do you think?” The bride to be wanted their valued input.

“Are you sure that you don’t want more bling or lace? Not even a veil?” Sarah was slightly disappointed that it would not be as elaborate as she hoped for. Til the moment Peter arrived, Sarah attempted to persuade Eugenie to go with a well known designer. But, Eugenie was adamant that Peter was the right choice.

“If I wear a veil no one will see my scar.” Eugenie sighed. “I want that to be showcased… for anyone that had to go through the same thing as me. I want them to know that you can still be beautiful even if you have scars.”

Alexa smiled proudly at Eugenie’s decision. “I think that is wonderful, Eugenie.” She added in. “I know you will look gorgeous in this dress and if it is everything you want, than I love it even more.”

Both Eugenie and Alexa glanced over at Sarah hoping that she would agree. “Well, if you love it sweetie I am on board all the way!” The group cheered as everyone was now on the same level.

Peter nodded in agreement with Alexa. “It is a beautiful testament that I am happy to fulfill, your royal highness.”

“This is my dress!” Eugenie fondly looked down at the sketch one more time. “I cannot wait to put it on!” The group dissolved into a quick laugh at Eugenie’s thrilled excitement on the matter.

“All I need is your measurements and I will get started on it right away!” Peter spoke enthusiastically before laying his eyes on Alexa. “I believe it is your turn, maid of honor!”

This was the part that Alexa had not been entirely excited for. Eugenie was adamant that Alexa’s dress was to be designed by Piloto and that it would be fully covered by the royal family. “Come with me my darling.” Peter took Alexa towards the small pedestal in the middle of the room.

“What would you like to see yourself in?” Piloto asked Alexa. She simply shrugged her shoulders unsure of what to say.

“It’s Eugenie’s day and I am happy to wear whatever she wants me to.” Alexa got a subtle glare from Eugenie.

“Alexa, I want your input in this too. I mean you have to wear it!” Eugenie and Alexa shared a quiet glance.

“You tell me your ideas and I will add to it, but I don’t know what you want me to look like!” Alexa encouraged Eugenie to speak her mind. “This is your day, not mine!” She further added.

The princess sat back and looked up at Peter. “What are you thinking Peter?”

“A few questions first, Eugenie.” Peter cleared his throat. “Are we going with a traditional royal maid of honor look with matching white or ivory? Or would you like some color?”

“Traditional.” Eugenie nodded before standing up. “What I have been thinking of is something similar to Pippa’s dress in the fact of how the buttons come up the back, but I want it to be different than hers.”

“Hmm… do you like lace and maybe a tulle cover?” Peter eyed Alexa’s body as he circled around her.

“Yes.” Alexa nodded. “But not covering all the dress.”

“How about this.” Peter had done a complete circle around Alexa and stood beside Eugenie. “A simple ivory color with corded lace and a few organza flowers opening to a short veil laced train at the back. Buttoning up the back like Pippa’s but the front has a sweetheart neck line covered with a sheer lace and with small sleeves keeping with the traditional guidelines.” Peter thoroughly explained his vision. “It will be elegant, traditional, but also subtle in the design to not overshadow Eugenie’s.” Piloto added that in for Alexa, as he knew that was where her head was.

“I love that! I can already see you in it Lexi!” Eugenie smiled happily as she took in the view of Alexa standing on the little pedestal. “May you sketch a quick draft for us, Peter?”

“Of course!” Peter waved the girls over as they fawned over his talented sketch bringing the dress to life.

“Ooh Alexa that will look beautiful on you!” Sarah gasped in awe of the design.

“What do you think?” Eugenie grasped her quiet friends arm, wanting to hear her opinion.

“I like how subtly pretty it is.” Alexa smiled at the sketch before locking eyes with Eugenie. “If that is what you like as well, I will be happy to wear it!’

“Yes! Are you kidding me!” Eugenie started to giggle. “I love it!”

“Honey, there isn’t nothing subtle about that dress when it gets on that body of yours!” Peter chimed in making the group dissolve into a fit of laughter.

Peter got the last minute measurements he needed to start designing both of the dresses and was about to leave Kensington. The plan was to keep Eugenie’s designer under wraps until the morning of the big day to which Piloto had eagerly agreed to. “Once again, thank you for this opportunity for me to design this gorgeous dress for an even more beautiful bride, Eugenie.” He shook the Princess’s hand firmly. “And of course your maid of honor dress, Alexa.” Peter took Alexa’s hand in his, shaking it.

“Thank you Peter. I am so happy that I have chose you.” Eugenie was smiling from ear to ear. “I look forward to hearing from you and seeing the dresses in person!”

With Peter gone, Eugenie flopped herself down onto a chair. “That was exhausting!” She giggled as she repositioned herself. “But, I am so excited to see them. Lexi you are going to be stunning!”

“Not as beautiful as you are going to be.” Alexa assured the princess.

Sarah was walking into the living room with Andrew in tow, carrying two large binders of papers. “Oh no.” Eugenie sat up straighter knowing exactly what they were as her eyes landed on Alexa.

“What?” She leaned in and whispered to Eugenie. Seeing her dreadful expression caused the blonde concern.

“Sorry to crash the party, but I thought it would be best for Alexa to get started on the protocols and policies she needs to be aware of.” Andrew practically slammed the binders down on top of the coffee table making a loud thudding sound.

Alexa’s eyes grew big, staring at the binders of endless papers. She reached forward and grabbed one nearly dropping it onto the ground not realizing how heavy it was. “I have to know all of this?” Alexa’s worried green eyes glanced up at Andrew, watching him carefully as he sat down across from Eugenie and her.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I have also booked a few etiquette classes for you with our advisor. With as many eyes that are going to be on you, we have to make sure you follow the protocols and etiquette acceptable of the royal family.” Andrew continued to build the fear that was growing within Alexa.

Her stomach started doing flips in all sorts of directions. When Alexa first signed up for this, she had no idea that it was going to be this much stress on top of it all. She knew a lot of eyes would be on her, but now they would be judging her every step, her every move.

“Also, I got word that BBC will be televising the wedding for the world to see.” Andrew smiled pleasantly as Alexa flipped through the pages and pages of protocols. “I hate to just drop this and run, but I have a meeting to attend to.” He rose from his seat and placed a light grasp on Alexa’s shoulder. “Send me your schedule and I will book those classes as soon as we can!” Andrew walked out with Sarah leaving Eugenie and Alexa alone.

“You ok?” Eugenie rested her hand on Alexa’s knee.

Putting up a fake smile on her lips Alexa turned her attention towards Eugenie and nodded. “Yes. More reading than I thought, but it will be fine.” Not wanting to worry her best friend.

“I can help you carry those over to Harry’s if you would like?” Eugenie offered. “I cannot believe that you two are now official!” She stood straight up from her seat with an elated smile. “I am so happy for you two! Have you discussed whether you wanted to be seated at the same table at the reception?” Eugenie started to bombard Alexa with questions causing more stress added to the pile. “Maybe you two will be outed as a couple by then and it won’t matter!”

“Uh, no we haven’t had any time to really talk further about anything really. What do you mean?” Alexa stood up and watched Eugenie walk with a bounce in her step.

“Well when the press find out that you two are in a relationship silly.” Eugenie gave Alexa a raised eyebrow. “I mean.” She paused briefly. “You are my best friend and will soon be announced as my maid of honor. Then to find out that you are dating my cousin who happens to be Prince Harry… it will be a big story!

Alexa’s heart sank in her chest. Harry and her had only recently decided to be an official couple and she had entirely forgot about the whole media thing. They had hardly any time to really discuss the matter further as Harry had left the next day back to base and had hardly spoken since their goodbye last weekend, other than short phone conversations here and there.

Harry was on his way back to London and the plan was for Alexa to spend the weekend with him at his cottage after she was finished more planning with Eugenie this evening. But, now the stress of it all was finally hitting Alexa harder than she expected.

“You can’t keep your relationship a secret forever. They are bound to find out about it.” Eugenie kept talking in the background as Alexa was caught up in her own thoughts as an overwhelming sense begin to build within herself. “But, let me know about the seating at the reception soon. I have to get it done in the next few weeks.”

“We will.” Alexa glanced down at the time on her phone. Harry was still a solid hour and a half away from Kensington, but all Alexa wanted was a little time to herself to regain her composure for when Harry arrived. She had been waiting all week to see him and only wanted to enjoy her time with him. “I think I am going to head over to Harry’s now. I wanted to get some dinner made for when he got home tonight.” Alexa turned around and grabbed the heavy binders. “Do you mind getting an RPO to take me over there?”

“Oh my god. That is the sweetest thing!” Eugenie cooed. “You are going to make dinner for Harry?” The princess swooned at the thought of how romantic it was. “I remember when Jack and I were first in a relationship… all the sweet little gestures and the good sex!” Eugenie started to reminisce.

“I better go though…” Alexa forced a smile on her face as she grabbed her bag and heavy binders heading for the door.

“Thank you again for doing all of this for me, Lexi.” Eugenie pulled her friend into a warm hug. “It means the world to me that you will be by my side that day.”

“I would do anything for you, you know that.” Alexa squeezed her tighter, but her mind was simply elsewhere.

“Have a good evening with Harry and I will see you Saturday night?” Eugenie gently reminded Alexa that they had plans tomorrow evening with Beatrice and Dave to a Harry Potter Trivia at a bar.

“Yes, that is the plan hopefully. I will talk about it with Harry though and see if he is up for it.” Alexa watched an expression grow on Eugenie’s face.

“Since when did you need Harry’s approval for hanging out with me?” The princess kind of snapped at Alexa, taking her off guard.

“Eugenie....” Alexa drug out her name. “It’s not that I need his permission, its the fact that my boyfriend is in the city for the weekend and I want to make sure he didn’t make other plans for us first before I fully agree to it.”

“Oh, ok.” Eugenie shrugged it off and placed a half fake smile onto her lips, slightly concerning Alexa.

Not wanting to make this more of a big deal, Alexa waved goodbye and followed behind Harry’s RPO Magnus who graciously offered to help her carry the binders for her.

Magnus opened the door into Harry’s home and held it open as she stepped inside. “Do you know when Harry is to arrive?” She turned around and asked Magnus wanting to know how long she had to cook dinner.

“Just over an hour, Miss Grey.” Magnus asked if she required any further assistance and showed himself out.

Alexa made herself at home and settled into Harry’s cottage. She opened the fridge door and searched through a nearly empty fridge wondering what she could cook for dinner.

——————

Harry entered his cottage and the immediate smell of a delicious meal wafted into his nose. He could hear something being chopped up with light music playing in the background as Alexa’s voice sang to it. The prince had no idea that she could sing so he quietly kicked off his shoes and stepped carefully towards the kitchen with his bag slung around his shoulder.

Rounding the corner, he was relieved to see that Alexa was still unaware that he had gotten home. Harry leaned up against the wooden pole and quietly watched her sway her body back and forth while wearing an apron, chopping away at some veggies singing her heart out to an Ellie Goulding song.

Her eyes lifted to find a shadow figure from the corner of her eye. Alexa’s head snapped up towards the figure to see Harry standing there with a big grin plastered on his face. An embarrassed Alexa ducked below the counter and cringed knowing that Harry caught her singing. “How long have you been standing there?” Alexa yelled out before bravely standing up to face Harry.

All she could hear was his infectious laugh ringing out. “Long enough to hear that amazing voice you apparently forgot to tell me about.” Harry locked eyes with Alexa the moment she stood back up from behind the counter. He was now casually leaning on the other side of the island counter smiling down at her.

“Well, welcome home.” Alexa giggled while walking towards her boyfriend. Harry wrapped his arms around her and lifted Alexa’s feet off the ground, hoisting her up in the air. Settling Alexa back down on her feet, Harry hastily wasted no time in locking their lips together.

“It is good to be home indeed, home to see my girlfriend.” Harry exaggerated the word and watched that smile he had been waiting to see grow on her lips. His eyes stole a few silent moments looking deep into those green eyes that he had missed while he was away. The couple had agreed to spend the weekend together, making the effort to spend as much time as possible when Harry was home in London to make this long distance thing work.

“I made you dinner, boyfriend.” A proud Alexa was beaming up at Harry.

“I smell it.” He sniffed the air and looked towards the stove. “Smells delicious, Lexi.” Harry looked towards the unchopped veggies left that Harry had interrupted Alexa working on. “Can I help you finish up?” He kindly offered to help.

“No, no.” Alexa was quick to reply. “Have a seat. I am nearly done.” She picked back up the knife and started to chop the vegetables. “Besides, I am sure you had a long day travelling home.”

Harry slowly sat down on the bar stool across from his girlfriend and watching her expertly cut the vegetables. “It was a quick drive home, not too bad.” His eyes scanned the kitchen and saw two giant binders full of stacked papers. “What are these?”

Alexa lifted her eyes up for a second to see Harry opening the binders and flipping through the pages. She silently looked back down not really wanting to get into how nervous she was becoming about the wedding.

“Protocols?” Harry’s deep voice asked as Alexa’s silence did not go unnoticed by the prince.

“Yep.” She replied shortly. “Do you mind grabbing plates and cutlery. Dinner is ready in about two minutes.” Alexa changed the subject quickly, but Harry could feel the stress exuding from her body.

————

“Wow, that chicken was amazing.” Harry pushed his plate away and leaned back with a full tummy. “You are an excellent cook.” He complimented Alexa who took her last bite of chicken.

The prince had noticed how strangely quiet she had become. Alexa barely spoke a word to him over dinner and often would catch her staring in a distracted trance as if her mind were elsewhere tonight. “You seem awfully quiet tonight. Everything alright?” Harry felt it was best to bring it up and see if he could help her in any way.

Alexa sighed deeply at Harry’s question. “Honestly, no. Not, really.” She confessed with a lowered head that Alexa then cradled in her hands.

“What can I do?” Harry offered sweetly, not liking to see Alexa this stressed.

“I don’t know, Harry.” Alexa lifted her head to lock eyes with the prince. “Burn those stupid binders for starters!” She started to giggle, but it faded all too quickly for Harry’s liking.

“I am sure I could arrange that.” Harry barked a laugh. “Why don’t we head over to the sofa and you can tell me what’s got you so stressed out?”

“I’d really like that.” Alexa’s heart skipped a beat seeing the kindness in Harry’s eyes in wanting to make things better for her. She followed the prince to his living room and sat down right beside him angled to face Harry with her legs on top of his lap.

“Comfy?” He asked sweetly to which Lexi nodded. “Talk to me, babe.” His blue eyes glazed over with evident concern.

“I was ok until your uncle Andrew brought those binders over to Eugenie’s this afternoon and started talking all about the policies and protocols I needed to know. Then he started on about the etiquette classes that I would have to take and I got overwhelmed and stressed.” Alexa breathed out. “This all comes natural to you and your family and I mean I know a few things, but to have to know those front and back is stressing me out a little. Let alone if I fuck up, it’s televised in front of the whole world… and your grandmother.”

Harry’s hand gently rubbed up and down her leg letting Alexa know he was there for her. “I can completely understand that.” He offered his support. “She would probably just giggle at you to be honest… well in her head at least.” Harry tried to lighten the mood, but a glaring set of green eyes told him not to.

“Then Eugenie asked me if you and I were going to be sitting together at the reception…” Alexa trailed off letting it sink in for him what the real issue was that was causing so much stress within her.

“Ah… I see.” He released a deep breath knowing where Alexa was leading.

“She started talking about maybe we wouldn’t need to decide since our relationship could already be out in the open before then and how big of a story it would be.” Alexa peaked up at Harry.

Harry pursed his lips together, slightly angry with Eugenie. He did not have the chance to have a long conversation with Alexa about their relationship since they officially became a couple. He had hoped that they would at some point, but Eugenie forced his hand now.

“I know we did not get a chance to talk before I had to leave last weekend.” Harry held Alexa’s gaze while taking in a breath, giving the prince a moment to think of where to start. Her green eyes were pleading with Harry to relieve her of some of this added on stress. His features softened as he caressingly held Alexa’s hand hating to see her this overwhelmed.

“My life…” he started out, “is complicated at best.” His head lowered to see their fingers intertwined. “My family is very much in the public eye whether we like it or not it is part of our job as the monarchs to be seen. With that being said, there is a very fine line between our public and private life which is often over stepped by the media. That means any relationship I am, at some point it is exposed and becomes public when it is meant to be kept private.” Harry spoke through pressed lips.

Alexa slowly nodded, reminding herself of certain situations she witnessed with Eugenie. Her hand interlocked their fingers tighter, holding on tight.

Harry lifted his head and locked in Alexa’s deep green gaze. “Our relationship will get out eventually if we continue this, Alexa. It would be naïve of us not to think that. This is why I like to keep things in private as long as possible so we can get to know each other on our own without the press breathing down our necks or harassing you.”

“I know it will.” Alexa’s voice was softly quiet.

“I need to be completely honest with you and you need to understand what is going to happen once it does get out. I hate having these conversations, which is why I left it last weekend without having it. I wanted to enjoy the fact that I get you all to myself for the time being.” Harry leaned down and kissed Alexa’s forehead as she closed her eyes welcoming the tender kiss. “It’s not meant to scare you, but you need to be aware of what being my girlfriend means.”

Harry watched her chest rise and fall uneasily, her breathing becoming harder as he rested his forehead against Alexa’s for a lingering second. Her eyes were still closed tightly as she listened to his voice.

“When people find out about us, they will want to know everything about you and I mean everything. It’s a media frenzy to be the first to figure out who you are and any little detail about our relationship. They will talk to people in your past, your old bosses, teachers, neighbors anyone to get a story out of.” Alexa’s eyes fluttered open before resting her head on the back of the sofa, keeping eye contact with Harry. “They will harass you, follow you, shout names at you to even get any reaction for a photograph. They can be ruthless and lack any regard or respect. The hard part is not reacting to it as badly as you want to. Don’t say a word, just keep your head low and keep going.”

“And there is nothing that you can ever do about it.” Alexa added, finishing off Harry’s warning of the press and their habits. “Don’t be surprised. I know a few things of how it works. I have been friends with Eugenie ever since I could write my own name.” Alexa giggled seeing the surprised expression on his face.

“I will never blame you if it is too much for you too handle. I don’t expect someone to willingly subject their self to all of this madness, it’s not always worth it.” Harry wanted Alexa to understand fully what it meant to be involved with a royal.

“It is though.” Alexa was quick to answer, surprising the prince as he snapped his attention back towards the blonde with a confused expression. “It’s worth it.” She rephrased her reply. “I mean, look at what Jack and Eugenie have… or your brother and Kate. Nothing worth fighting for is ever easy, and I know you can’t always intervene, but I can handle myself Harry.”

“Alexa… you aren’t understanding what I am warning you about. Do not be naive.” He dropped her hand and stood up hastily. How could Alexa be this naïve? It was all worth it?

“I think I understand just fine, thanks.” Alexa clapped back angrily, unknowingly setting off a switch in the prince.

Harry turned around with a menacing look and practically yelled at Alexa. “Do you think my mother understood just fine? Do you really think someone warned her about this fucked up life? Do you think she understood what she signed up for?” Alexa in drew a gasp unsure of how to respond to Harry’s sudden lashing out.

“Well we can’t ask her that now can we?” The prince added while making his point clear to Alexa. He turned his back towards her and walked a few steps away.

Alexa sat there frozen in time while a deafening silence fell between them. Before Harry walked away, she saw the pain circling in his blue eyes at the thought of how people had mistreated his mother. He was only having this conversation with her so Alexa fully understood what was going to happen, but he was giving her a quick out she was not willing to take.

Harry was holding his head in his hands supporting himself up with his elbows that wavered back and forth on the cool countertop. He had horribly lashed out at Alexa out of nowhere. All he wanted was for her to understand, but clearly she could not get what she agreed to when he asked Alexa to be his girlfriend. It was only a matter of time before things got out and with Alexa being Eugenie’s maid of honor, she would already be in the spotlight.

But just as he could not protect his mother from the cruelty of the press combined with royal life… he could not protect Alexa from it either. That part was already chewing him up from the inside. He had been thinking about it all week, how her adoring smile was bound to fade once the awful stories ripped her apart piece by piece as she came crying to him about it all. He would again helplessly hold and comfort her time and time again after she read the lies printed about her, even when he encouraged her not too.

Alexa slowly stood up from the sofa and drew in a breath. Her heart was aching for Harry knowing that his anger came from a place of fear for her. She took a quiet moment trying to see it all from his perspective and why he had lashed out. Seeing the muscles of his back through his shirt rippling through knowing that he was tense as he stood with his back to Alexa.

He felt a gentle hand slowly rub his back as he swallowed a lump in his throat. “Harry?” Alexa whispered cautiously, to which the prince did not reply nor move from his spot. She wrapped her arms around him from the back and leaned in, kissing the back of his shoulder before resting her head on top of him.

“I don’t understand what you must be feeling right now…” Alexa softly spoke. “I do know that there is no doubt in my mind that you would protect me as much as you could.” She let the words sink in. “I only said I understand what I am getting myself into and it is worth it to me to find out what there is between us because at the end of the day that is enough for me. You are enough for me.” His one hand reached down and placed it over top of her laced fingers across his abdomen.

Harry stood up slowly, lifting his arm up for the small blonde to cuddle in beside him. He was looking down as he caught her gentle green eyes peaking up at him with a small smile hinting at the corner of her lips. “Are you ok?” She quietly whispered as she searched in his deep blue eyes.

“Are you? I am the one that lost it on you…I’m sorry.” He apologized while tenderly caressing her cheeks with both hands. “I should never have yelled at you like that.” Through out this whole time, Alexa’s arms remained wrapped around Harry not letting go of him.

“I don’t like being yelled at, but I know where it was coming from.” She let Harry off the hook. “Your anger is only out of fear for me, but, I would rather you talk to me about her before it gets to that again. I am not saying you need to tell me everything, but know I don’t mind listening if you ever need to Harry. It’s part of my job to listen to people and help them.”

Harry’s finger lifted her chin to raise her mouth closer to his lips. “I am a lucky man to have you, Alexa.”

“Yeah, you are damn lucky.” Alexa’s laughter lightened the mood. He leaned down and captured her lips tenderly, sharing a deep kiss.

Breaking out of the kiss, Harry’s brow furrowed seriously. “And you are right, I will do whatever I can to keep you safe.”

“I know, because if you don’t I have a father and two older brothers.” Alexa casually reminded Harry while playfully squeezing his hips eliciting a smile she had been waiting for from the prince.

“Right…” He shook that thought right out of his head seeing the stacks of binders out of the corner of his eye. Leaving Alexa’s arms, he grabbed the heavy binders off the counter and looked back over his shoulder at his girlfriend. “Come with me, we are going to go through these awful things and I am going to help you.” He hoped that by helping relieve some of Alexa’s stress, he could make it up to her.

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that.” Alexa tried to convince him not to worry about it.”

“Grab a bottle of your favourite wine and get your get your cute ass over here.” Harry patted the spot next to him. “It’s the least I could do after adding even more stress to you tonight. Plus then you don’t have to read through all this shit.”

“Because you are the expert?” Alexa giggled and sat down close beside her boyfriend.

“Uh… yes.” Harry made a goofy face. “Ok, so first things first.” He opened the binder and started to summarize all of the protocols so simply making them less daunting for Alexa. She listened to Harry closely as he spoke while he explained with his hands.

“Ok, but when I walk down when do I have to curtsey and is it only to your grandmother? Or to your whole family?” Alexa nervously clenched her hands together as the prince stared into her eyes, imagining Alexa walking down the aisle behind his cousin Eugenie and how he was going to keep his bloody cool himself.

“What?” Alexa placed a hand on his knee. “Harry?” She looked into his glazed eyes.

“Shit…sorry.” Harry snapped out of his trance with a shake of the head. “Uh, no just to gran at the ceremony.”

Alexa rested her head on Harry’s shoulder and released a deep sigh. “Thank you for helping me with all of this. I know it must seem silly to you as these all come second nature to you. But, I appreciate it.” She leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“It’s not silly. God I would probably tell Eugenie to pick someone else if they made me take classes and read through all of this awful crap.” Harry slammed the binder shut loudly, nearly dropping it on the ground with its heaviness making a thudding sound.

“Believe me after today, with the designer talking about the dresses and everything is making me more nervous about it all.” Alexa paused for a moment. “But, it will all be worth it seeing Eugenie so happy that day.”

Harry angled his head down at Alexa who found his shoulder again to rest her head. “You are a great friend. I am sure she appreciates it, Lexi.”

“I am wondering how I am going to handle seeing you walk down that aisle and keep my cool in front of my family. I pray to god that Zara is not going to be sitting beside me.” He confessed whole-heartedly.

“Umm… sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I think she is.” Alexa fell into a fit of laughter seeing Harry’s concerned expression knowing fully that Zara would only make matters worse.

#prince harry #royalfanficcentral #phff #prince harry fanfic #fanfic #forevermyalwaysphff #harry and alexa #chapters #chapter10

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pixl-king · 5 years

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Hello! I see you opening some request? I wanna request about superbat. Clark and Dick are known to Bruce to have puppy eyes whenever they want something. Maybe one day Bruce tries his puppy eyes to Clark? Mostly when they're alone together, because he doesn't want anyone knows that the mighty Batman has puppy eyes lol. Thank you!

Hi, thank you for the request! Here’s my take one it, it’s not as playful as it is fluffy and warm but I hope you like it anyway!

It was like any night really. The sun had been tugged down to the horizon and passed it several hours ago and there was only a light breeze that carded against the soft curtains next to the open window. They were white and soft, a stark contrast to the otherwise heavy oak and velvet furniture in the master office of Wayne manor. Clark laid on one of the couches by the small coffee table that stood in the centre of the room; he was reading one of the many books that were occupying the numbers of bookshelf. He’d made quite some progress in reading Bruce’s small library, had actually managed half a bookshelf the past few months. So really the night was no special. Bruce was by his desk working on god knows what, he wasn’t much of a work and chat person but that was something Clark had caught on to years ago. Now the silence was… Comfortable. It wasn’t tense or as broody anymore, even though most took it as just that. It had only been recently that the League had understood that it really wasn’t as bad as one might think.

Flash back a few hours ago when Clark came over for dinner with the Wayne family and he was pretty sure most of the table occupants would’ve been afraid to drop a toothpick too… Had it not been the Wayne family of course.

Damian had stayed mostly quiet and hadn’t made much noise at all really, except for some comments regarding Tim and silently on the food. Clark wasn’t entirely sure of what Tim had done or if the comment was just about the other boy in essence, but there wasn’t much else said. Jason had indulged in a lively conversation with Barbara at some point but he had also asked Clark about the upcoming missions that the League stood in front of, a bit criticising, but not too bad. Then Stephanie and Cassandra had talked for themselves across the table, and Dick had been the most keen to talk to Clark. Tim… Yeah Clark wasn’t sure if Tim had been awake where he sat next to Stephanie by the other end of the table. But the table was long and there had been a lot of conversation going so the mood had been nothing but good.

It was a strange, although sweet, gathering of family. And even though Bruce didn’t say much during it, Clark was quite sure that he saw a smile at least once.

So now Clark had ‘officially’ left the manor, as he laid on the office couch. Neither Bruce or Clark felt up to encouraging the kids to talk even more regarding the fact that his visits had increased quite some, to the point where he was now staying for dinner. So Clark had left and then re-entered through the office windows. A night like many others.

Clark had been sneaking into the manor many times, even before things in their relationship had changed. It spread a small and slightly cocky smile on Clark’s face as he remembered Bruce’s reaction to his first visits, unannounced. There had been quite the disapproval from the Dark Knight at first.

”Remember when I first started showing up here?” Clark said reminiscing, putting the book over his chest and craning his neck to check on the man by the desk.

Bruce didn’t stop with his scanning of papers or the way he sorted them into bundles, instead Clark got a small ”hmp” back, low enough for anyone else to miss.

”You were not happy the first time.” Clark laughed, ignoring the others passivity. As it was, it was a comfortable silence and a comfortable space anyway.

”It was impossible to get rid of you.” Bruce said by the desk.

”Well you’re a hard man to get through to, takes time.” Clark smiled softly. ”But I wouldn’t say that the outcome’s too bad, would you?” He looked from the book on his chest to Bruce again, lifting an eyebrow.

Bruce put down the papers momentarily to look back. A small smile spread over his lips, one not many saw or knew of. It wasn’t like the ’billionaire playboy’ smile that you saw in the papers. It wasn’t all teeth and lust, it wasn’t larger than life, and it wasn’t made for the cameras. This was just Bruce. And it was small and secretive. Conserved and rare. And Clarke felt his chest turn warm and soft from it. He was quite sure that he loved it.

”No.” Bruce replied simply before looking back at his files. The shuffling of them continued and the slight breeze that had almost frozen as their eyes met continued. Clark couldn’t help smiling to himself, and he kept smiling, as he went back to his book.

—

“Dismissed.” Batman called out to the League before people got up to leave. Diana and Arthur walked along Barry who had indulged them in a vivid description of what Metallica was and how they had to check it out. Clark chuckled at the scene as Hal hurried after and started to protest.

The world was surprisingly calm and somehow that wasn’t unnerving for once. It was to the point where Clark was considering taking a small vacation, maybe head home to say hi to ma’. The world seemed to rotate in peace, he thought as the globe spread out before him by the view of the watchtower.

“What are you doing?”

Clark was pulled from his gaze by the familiar voice that had made its way next to him. Bruce was still wearing his mask and stood there looking at him, then back to earth. “Do you think something’s happening?” He asked gravely and looked out, as if looking for trouble.

Clark sighed but put on a smile, “No, not at all.”

He said it with a light and happy tone, but the reaction he got was a low and heavy sigh from Bruce that left him confused. But he didn’t get the chance to ask what caused the reaction before the man had turned and was walking towards the exit of the tower.

“We’re still having dinner tonight?” Clark dared calling out after him as it seemed everyone had left (plus Clark had listened to check), that and he also secretly enjoyed the way Bruce tensed at the words. Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar he looked around them and then scowled at Clark. He didn’t answer but continued walking.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” Clark continued with a laughter under his words.

“Don’t be late.” Bruce replied, always relying on Clark to catch it with his super-hearing.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Clark replied, mostly to himself as it seemed Bruce had already left through the Zeta-tube.

Dinner that night took place at Wayne manor once again, yet it was far less lively. It seemed that every member of the household had left on other activities, and those who did not reside at the manor were not visiting either.

So when Clark did arrive he was met with a table for two by the patio rather than the grand dining table inside. It was set with candles, silverware and a small rose. And whilst this was all very nice, Clark felt as if something was off as dinner went on. Bruce seemed to try and bring something up every now and then but instead of continuing the topic he averted it by asking how the food was. By the end of the main course Clark was sure he’d heard that question three times already.

Once Alfred brought out desert, however, Clark didn’t dare wait to be asked how desert was. So instead he took the opportunity when Bruce took a sip of his wine. He put down his spoon and looked at the man in front of him, “What’s up?”

Bruce looked like he almost choked on some wine and had to struggle keeping his composure as he put down the glass again. “What?” He asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“You’ve been trying to say something all night but you keep asking me how dinner was, it’s great by the, as I’ve said the last few times. Alfred’s a great cook.”

Bruce looked uncomfortable for a second, which in itself was unnerving and Clark had to consider if something actually was wrong. It didn’t suit the man in front of him at all.

“Eh- Hm.” Bruce cleared his throat and pulled a hand through his hair before he looked at Clark. “Stephanie has been asking for… vacation.”

Clark felt a bit stumped at the sudden comment and looked at Bruce a bit confused, “Well that’s great… Or, is it?” He asked confused.

Bruce sighed, “She wants us all to go.”

Clark still didn’t see the problem, and had to admit he was feeling rather mute. Bruce must’ve picked up on it and looked away slightly annoyed. Clark watched and he would’ve fallen off his chair had his body been able to move, but as he looked at Bruce he caught sight of a slight redness spreading out over the man’s face. Bruce Wayne was officially blushing.

“She has for some reason asked that you will join us.” Bruce said grumpily and Clark was sure that he refused meeting his eyes intentionally.

“Me?” Clark asked confused, still a bit taken aback by the view.

“Yes.” Bruce replied.

Clark struggled for a few seconds to find the words, he opened his mouth put all that came was a few puffs of air. The silence dragged out for some moments until Clark felt that his body could settle into something a bit more secure again.

“Do you want me to come?” He asked, eyes still on the man who wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Bruce shifted, “It’d be irresponsible by the league to have the both of us gone during the same time. There’s a large risk in it, but it seems that Stephanie has spread the words and now a few of them are… Requesting the same thing…”

“A few?”

“I believe master Dick phrased it as the ultimate vacation and that miss Barbara has quite the few request on tourist attractions you should be going along on.” Alfred suddenly showed up by their side and started taking the plates, Bruce seemed to almost roll his eyes at the comment. It was a similar one to the time that the kids had showed up with Clark’s S on all of their t-shirts.

Nonetheless Clark thanked Alfred and looked back to Bruce once the butler disappeared. He was looking out to the garden and there were still traces of red trailing his cheekbones that made something soften inside of Clark.

“You still didn’t answer my original question.” Clark said calmly.

Bruce huffed, “I’ve already told you what I think of it.”

“That it’d be bad for the League.”

“Yes.”

“What about us?”

Bruce didn’t do anything else but look out at their surrounding. The silence around them held the question that the Dark Knight seemed to reject. At which Clark sighed.

“I think you’re kids will have an excellent time with you.” He said with a voice of warmth but there was a slight disappointment inside that he couldn’t quite shake. But then again, he couldn’t expect too much. After all he had only read half a bookcase so far and there were many more to go.

Bruce didn’t reply even though he looked like he was about to. He stayed quiet, chewing on his own thoughts.

“They asked for you to come.”

“I know.”

“You should come.”

“Why?”

Bruce turned to him, a look of irritation slightly grabbing at his expression. Clark just looked back at him. There was a small leverage here that he did not hope to loose, because there was everything to gain.

“I want you to come.” Bruce said, still looking severe but the edges were softening and there was room for something else.

Clark’s smile widened in tact with his stomach feeling warm. Bruce was not a man to invite people to see him asking for things, because well, he didn’t. Bruce got what he wanted, that’s how he worked. That’s why he and Clark worked. Because Clark was one of the few that’d challenge that.

So with a bit of mischief behind his motives he continued. “What about the League?” It was a stretch but Clark was a curious man and he couldn’t argue otherwise.

Bruce sighed in exasperation, shaking his head. It took almost a minute before he turned back again. “Can you please come with us?” He asked, hard edges peeled away, leaving way for something soft and genuine. Clark felt as if someone stolen the air in his lungs as he was met with two blue eyes, clearer than the sky, a sky that mostly stayed clouded. It made Clark feel dizzy and hazy in all the right ways. The only respond he could even make out was a small nodd. Bruce seemed to exhale at that, but he smiled again, that small and secretive one. Private.

“You won’t like it one bit,” he said taking a sip of his drink. “It’s pure hell, you’ll need vacation once it’s over.”

Clark laughed at that and looked at Bruce, nodding. I’m pretty sure I can handle it. His smile turned warmer. “I’ll be there.” As he placed his hand over the other’s he felt the colossus and the many small scars. But Clark was quite sure he loved it.

—

In the end Bruce was right. Vacation with the Wayne kids turned out to be pure hell, and somehow, god knows how, it started already in the car to the airport.

#superman #batman #superbat #superbat prompt #superbat request #dc #bruce wayne #clark kent #bruce wayne x clark kent

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drunklander · 7 years

Text

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 303

Ok so I was out of town this weekend and rather than word-vomiting nonsense into evernote as I watched the episode like I usually do, I happy-flailed, rage-flailed, made incoherent noises while pointing at my phone, somehow managed to get myself buried in the pillows I was leaning on, chose to not unbury myself and eventually just kept dramatically flopping and throwing the blanket over my head because it was 2:30 in the morning and I was in a special kind of ridiculous mood that comes from running around a warehouse for two hours at the best version of Macbeth ever. (Third time going and it’s still one of my favorite things.)

Anywho...

I think this episode is my favorite so far this season? But like, I still have the same general feelings about it that I had after the first two? I liked Jamie’s side better because it didn’t make me rage. Claire’s side was just about Frank’s #manpain, because of course it was. Last week her side didn’t make me rage and was actually about her so of course now we’re back to #manpain. And obviously I have rage about it. It felt less rushed than the last two, but like I almost wish they cut back on the Claire and Frank stuff to give the Ardsmuir stuff a bit more time? Which isn’t to say that I think Claire is less important than Jamie or in any less pain than him or is any less broken or empty (I don’t feel that way *at all*), I just keep thinking that since they decided to literally just make her side of things about Frank and not explore her becoming a surgeon or her with Bree, that it could have be told in a more concise way since Jamie’s side of things has more plot points to hit along the way? I don’t know... Whatever, at least Frank’s dead now and went out as the steaming pile of shit he’s always been.

The word version of my dramatic flopping is under the cut...

Scotland

I like the walk and talk with LJG. Sets up everything without feeling like an exposition dump. Ok a little like an exposition dump, but I still like it.

Slash I like how we know Lord John remembers exactly who Jamie is and what he did just by him losing his cool for a second with “I’ll not dine with that--”. No further explanation necessary or given.

MURTAGH!!! Guys I’m still fucking ecstatic that they decided to save Murtagh. Like thank you, show. I know I shit on you on the reg, but holy shit thank you for saving Murtagh.

I can’t wait to see their reunion. I’m guessing since we didn’t get it here, we’ll maybe get it when Claire comes back and Jamie’s telling her that Murtagh survived? Like I’m guessing that scene and the Ellen’s tower scene and Claire doing surgery will be in ep. 306 when they’re telling each other what they’ve been through? Since Matt wrote this one and that one?

The first time watching this I was like ok he’s coughing. He can’t be coughing. Because coughing means he’s gonna die and he can’t have been saved just to die. But I love how it plays out.

And I *love* that it’s Murtagh’s bit of plaid. I love that he’s the one who is holding on to the old ways and to the memory of Claire and wants to talk about her. It’s a nice contrast to Jamie who has yet to say Claire’s name because it’s all he can do to hold himself together and talking about her and the baby with others would make him lose it completely. Like he clearly thinks about her all the time and uses what she taught him, but he never says her name because at this point that’s still too much.

I’m also really glad they cut the bit where the plaid was found and Jamie gets flogged again. We’ve seen him flogged enough times that we really don’t need to go back to that yet again. And I feel like with the small tweak to the stuff with Lord John, it wasn’t needed. I like that they just let the plaid be a small symbol that despite the English’s best efforts, the Highland culture hasn’t been entirely snuffed out.

Jamie using what Claire taught him to care for Murtagh and the men makes me feel all the feelings. He can’t say her name, but dammit he loves and misses her so much and has so much respect for her skills as a healer and *assumes fetal position*.

I giggle every time Lord John is referred to as John William Grey. Like they gotta keep including that middle name since they forgot his first name last year. (I know, I need to stop picking on that. But it was dumb and will never stop being dumb.)

I love the small expression on Lord John’s face when he finds out the men eat the rats. Like they’re prisoners but that’s an indignity too far? Reminded me of how Hal insisted that the men be propped up to be shot in ep. 301.

Lord John’s line about how heavy Jamie’s irons must feel give me preemptive sads for just how heavy they are and will remain for Jamie. Because he feels their weight for years after they’re struck off.

Jamie putting pride aside and asking for blankets for Murtagh specifically (not just asking as the leader of all the men) makes me want to hug him and tell him it’ll be ok. (Also, are we just ditching the Fraser part of Murtagh’s name? Because he’s just Murtagh Fitzgibbons twice in this episode? *shrug*) And the look on Lord John’s face there. Like he knows that it’s costing Jamie to expose a point of vulnerability here with this request for Murtagh and he can appreciate just how much Jamie must care for his kinsman since he’s willing to ask.

The look that comes over Jamie’s face while their theme plays as he thinks there’s a glimmer of hope that he can find Claire again murders me. In the best way possible.

“There’s nothing you can do that hasn’t already been done to me. So, try if you must.” Excuse me while I get a bit emotional.

Jamie’s hesitation before telling Murtagh that Kerr mentioned a white witch makes me feel things to the point where I almost forget that all the white witch stuff makes me roll my eyes, but they’re committed to it so whatever. Like telling Murtagh about it is a step beyond just hoping. It’s admitting out loud to that hope. And that’s a vulnerable place to be in, like it makes the hope a bit more real.

Murtagh talking about Claire and the baby and how he thinks of her and wanting to talk to Jamie about it is so sweet and I just love Murtagh so much and I’m so glad he’s not dead.

Seriously though, Jamie’s respect for Claire’s healing and dietary advice throughout this episode kills me with feelings. Frank uses her doctor title to try to hurt her while they fight. Jamie is just filled with respect for his wife’s skill.

Also, I love Jamie using his wine knowledge. Like the dude has suffered so damn much, I’m glad he got a little grin out of still being able to identify what wine it was.

And omg him telling the men about the food plays so much better in the show than it did in the book.

I giggled about the little hiding spot bit, but I really do love that the men respect him enough and are loyal enough that they go along with his plan instead of feeling like he’s abandoning them and rat him out.

And I do like the parallel of Jamie sneaking up on Lord John, but him calling him William Grey again and then reciting his birth order and father’s title really just rubs in again how silly it was to not just go with the name last year that he’s going to use for the rest of the series. (I’m letting this go now, I swear. Until the next time. Because apparently this is the hill I’m willing to die on.)

The flashbacks are a bit much though. Like we eventually see pretty much that entire scene from last year and I really don’t think it was necessary. But like, whatever, it’s not something I’m like ragey about. Just like, I feel like that time could have been better spent...

And yeah, since we didn’t see Jamie at the tower in this episode, I’m guessing we’re going to get it when he’s telling Claire about it. Which I’m here for. Like let us see the emotional part of it when we can then see Claire reacting to Jamie’s emotions. Give me that in my eyeballs please and thank you.

Although I feel like the scene of him asking to be killed as the second part of Lord John’s promise would work a little better if we did get a little more of his despair. Like his last shred of hope of finding Claire again was just dashed and that’s what’s prompting this. But I feel like there’s a little something missing that might have made it land better? Whatever, I still get the point I guess?

Also, this is the second time that someone has promised to kill Jamie and reneged on that promise. First BJR and now LJG...

“She’s truly gone.” JUST WAIT ANOTHER FEW EPISODES, BUDDY! YOU CAN DO IT! IT’LL BE OK!

Thanks, Lord John, for the rando doctor because it would really suck if Murtagh was saved just to die in prison! (Guys I am seriously beyond fucking pumped that Murtagh got saved. THINK OF HIM MEETING BREE! THINK OF HIM GETTING REUNITED WITH CLAIRE! THINK OF ALL THE AWESOMENESS THAT COMES FROM MURTAGH STILL BEING AROUND! I LOVE SHOW!MURTAGH SO MUCH!)

I like that much like Jamie hasn’t been able to say Claire’s name up until this point, Lord John doesn’t say Hector’s.

“Some people you grieve over forever.” I’m hoping I like show!LJG better than book!LJG, but I do like that he can probably appreciate what Jamie is feeling better than most people.

“I think perhaps the greatest burden lies in caring for those we cannot help. Not in having no one for whom to care. That is emptiness. But no great burden.” No comment on this one, just glad that was included because I like it a lot.

Gah but with that whole exchange. Jamie knows that Lord John might be able to understand the depth of his loss and says Claire’s name for the first time and I have feelings.

I wish the moment wasn’t broken up by a flashback, but I do like the back and forth with Jamie telling Lord John that the woman was his wife.

But ugh, Lord John. Nope. Don’t do that. Don’t touch him like that. I know you just bonded but not like to the point where you’d think this was ok. And even if you were feeling things, you definitely wouldn’t do this. Like not just because you’re used to hiding that part of yourself, but because you’re an honorable soldier and the power dynamic here is not ok. You’re not equals and as much as you guys just got real with each other, I don’t think you’d forget that.

And I 100% think that Jamie’s reaction here is strictly PTSD from his rape. Book!Jamie definitely had some homophobic tendencies, but in this scene I really think it’s just his trauma coming back to him. Like his face. Omfg there is zero doubt that he will kill Lord John right there, consequences be damned, if LJG doesn’t move his hand.

I really hope they tone down Lord John’s constantly reminding everyone that he’s in love with Jamie. It’s why I can’t really be on board with him in the books. But if they make some small changes, I can definitely be on board with him in the show.

I like that Murtagh was revealed to be alive now rather than waiting until like the end of the season once he’d been transported. (Because we all thought that if he got to live, he’d end up transported, right? I feel like that was a thing most people were guessing.) Like now we don’t need to have to care about prison randos and we [hopefully] get to see Jamie finding out he’s alive when Jamie tells Claire he’s alive, and then another reunion when [I’m guessing] they find him again in the colonies.

Lord John apologizing for touching Jamie in the prison makes me really hopeful that I’m going to like him in the show. Like I *love* that they had him apologize. They’ve done such a good job adapting the secondary characters that I think it’s not too much to hope that I’ll end up liking him more than book!LJG. But yeah, great change, show. Well done.

Lord John giving Jamie the best life he can because he wants to discharge the debt for his own name, and not because he’s like in love with Jamie or whatever, makes me happy.

(For real, can they just be friends without the gay guy in love with his straight BFF trope? And just let them have a friendship based on mutual respect and shit? Please?)

Boston

Not a fan of the dog as the title card. Like I get that it’s a reference to the book where Bree had a dog, but the dog is in like half a shot in the show so it’s just random to use that instead of something that’s actually related to what they’re exploring in the episode? I mean, who cares, it’s a title card. But it’s still an odd choice.

Oh look! Frank’s in the kitchen! The woman’s place! *eye roll* Except nope it’s not because he’s a nice guy and is cooking breakfast to be helpful. No. Of course not. Because this is Frank and Frank is an asshole. His breakfasts obviously have an ulterior motive. Like seriously, Frank. Bree’s growing up in the U.S. She’s going to like fucking Eggos. Eggos are fucking great. Just ask Eleven. But no. Claire likes America and wanted to become a citizen as something for herself and now Bree’s an American so clearly that needs to be remedied. Let the girl eat the damn frozen waffles, Frank, and stop trying to force *everyone* to be the version of themselves that *you* want them to be.

Look at Claire being all pleasant and conversational. Look at Claire being friendly and making casual, platonic plans. Look at Claire knowing that they’ve decided to live separate lives but still being civil and personable and friendly because they live together. And now look at Frank being a steaming pile of trash. She’s not asking you to go on some romantic date or to pretend like you’re in a regular marriage, you rancid trash fire. She’s literally seeing if you want to go to the movies. And you need to go and make it uncomfortable because clearly seeing a movie twice is just absurd and casually being like thanks for the offer, but I think I have to pass on this one would be the nice thing to do, but you can’t help making Claire feel like shit at every possible opportunity. Like seriously, making Claire feel like she did something wrong there, like somehow with this innocuous invitation she’s breaching the agreement you have, is just a dick move. You’re a terrible person, Frank.

“Nothing a cold martini won’t cure.” I want to be friends with Joe. Joe is great. I love Joe. I wish we had more with Claire and Joe because dammit, Claire needs someone in her life who isn’t trying to make her feel like shit every time they interact.

Oh hey! It’s Frank’s girlfriend! Time to go on a ramble. I’m glad that they had Claire be like yeah, it’s cool to live separate lives. Because Claire knows she’s never going to be what Frank wants her to be. And Frank makes damn sure that she can never forget that. Because Frank is an asshole. Like Claire should have left, promise to Jamie or no promise. It’s stupid and really not believable to me that she stuck around. Your mileage may vary. But she stayed and says it’s cool for Frank to go and lead his life. There’s a line in Drums where Claire is thinking of why she never called Frank out on his affairs: “I could not; I had no right.” She knows that she can’t be what he wants her to be. She knows she’s emotionally unfaithful. The affairs in the book hurt her, she’s only human, but she believes that she really can’t call him out. So I like that here, instead of it being like they’re actually still pretending to be in a functioning marriage, she gives Frank that freedom. Because Claire is imperfect, but still a good person.

And then there’s Frank. And Frank is a vindictive jackass. There’s living your own life and having a girlfriend and whatever, and then there’s inviting your girlfriend to your house on the day of your wife’s graduation party. And then when she shows up, *inviting her in* while your wife wrangles all the guests and has everyone leave. Because Claire went to med school and became a surgeon so of course even that has to be about Frank and how much of a piece of shit he is. Claire can’t possibly have one moment to celebrate her achievements. Nope. That’d be too much to ask. Gotta throw some Frank bullshit in.

“You invited her here. Where our daughter lives.” Claire’s first thought isn’t of how Frank fucked up her day here. Which she’d be totally entitled to do. No, Claire’s first thought is about Bree. Because her priority is to make sure Bree has a loving environment. Even if it means staying in an absolutely shitty situation. (You seriously should have left, Claire...) She does it for Bree. And Frank fucking brought his girlfriend over and threatened the illusion for Bree. Honestly, Claire’s the one here who looks like a good fucking parent. You’re a rancid glob of old cheese that’s stinking up the fridge, Frank.

“You were taking the car, she was just picking me up.” Right, Frank. Sure. You want brownie points for being discreet while also inviting your girlfriend to pick you up from your house where a graduation party is being held. I don’t care if you thought the dinner reservation was at a different time. If you’re actually looking to be discreet, you don’t have your girlfriend come to your damn house.

“You really dislike me that much?” Yes, Claire. He fucking resents you. He’s a shit sandwich. He resents you for not being what he wants you to be even though you’ve been honest about where you were about things from the start, and instead of leaving he sticks around and makes you feel terrible about yourself because he’s a petty, selfish, pathetic excuse of a man.

“Do you honest think that anyone at Harvard believes that we’re happily married?” No no no. Noooope. No, Frank. You don’t get to pull some whataboutism bullshit here. It’s not Claire’s fucking job to convince your Harvard people that you’re happily married. That’s not part of the fucking conditions. She said she wouldn’t talk about the past and that you could raise Bree to think you were her father. She’s doing that. Beyond that she owes you jack shit. Like you’re making it seem like she actually went to your work shit over the last few years, which would be doing you a fucking favor she didn’t have to. Because you’re living separate lives now, remember? It was Claire’s idea. That goes both ways. You get your girlfriend and she doesn’t have to pretend like she’s in love with you. And jfc the fact that you don’t see a difference between not “acting happy enough” at a work thing and FUCKING BRINGING YOUR GIRLFRIEND TO YOUR WIFE’S GRADUATION PARTY makes me want to punch you more than I already do. You really are the world’s biggest douchenozzle, Frank. I can’t wait for you to die. *checks time left in episode*

Having Claire call whatever her name is a harlot is not a good look for Claire. But like I said before and like what’s in the books, Claire’s human and Frank hurt her by bringing the girlfriend around. I can understand why she’d hit back like this. And it parallels Frank reducing what she had with Jamie to just fucking. Except what Frank and this lady have is def not the same as what Jamie and Claire have, because I honestly think Frank is incapable of loving and accepting a woman as his equal.

“Green ain’t your color, Claire.” Yeah, but like deep down she’s not jealous? Like on the surface, maybe, she’s human, but she doesn’t want you? She’s pissed that you were a complete twatwaffle and is hitting back. Because she’s fucking human and we all do shit like this when we’re pissed. You’re still the bad guy here, asshole.

“You wanted to hurt me.” “Maybe I did.” Yeah, no shit you did, Frank. That’s the only fucking reason you’re still around. To fucking hurt Claire. Because you’re so fucking selfish and petty that once you finally wrapped your fucking head around the fact that she’s never going to love you the way you want her to, you fucking stuck around to make her life miserable. You are the worst kind of cruel.

“Maybe I wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine.” Ok but you knew what you were getting into, Fred. Claire has been honest from the start. And she’s clearly been trying to make things as ok for you as she can. (Seriously, Claire, you should have fucking left.) She’s literally living up to her end of your deal while letting you do whatever the fuck you like with whoever the fuck you like. It’s your own damn fault you decided to stay. You lose all right to be this shitty. You can leave and you should leave but it’s your own selfish pettiness that makes you stay just so you can make this woman’s life miserable.

And the loathing in his voice when he says “Dr. Randall.” Like it *kills* him that despite his best efforts to destroy this woman, she managed to achieve her own damn goals. How anyone can think this fuckwad is a good guy is beyond me. (Like you do you, keep thinking whatever you want to think. Each to their own. Yada yada yada. But I will *never* understand it.)

“Have you fucked her in our bedroom?” I honestly don’t think Claire’s upset here about if the fucking actually happened, I think she’s just realizing just how vindictive Frank is that this is something he’d probably do just to spite her.

“File for divorce. You’d have your freedom.” “Yes, I would.” Like yeah, Claire should have left, but she didn’t. Because she promised Jamie and then because she’s a good person who didn’t want to take Bree away from Frank. But I love that she’s turning the tables on Frank now. And being like yeah, you know what. You can leave too. It’s clearly the best move. But Frank’s like nope. And I don’t believe for a second that it’s because he thinks Claire will keep Bree from him. Claire wouldn’t do that. She knows that Bree loves Frank, and Claire isn’t a piece of shit. She’s flawed, but she’s not a terrible person in the way that Frank is a terrible person. Claire would never take Bree from Frank and Frank knows it. He’s literally only staying so he can keep having his cake and eating it too. He can have his girlfriend and still torment Claire at every available opportunity.

“Forgive me, Claire, if I don’t risk everything on your promises. You have not been very good at keeping them.” Uh, buddy? Slow your roll. Yes, she fell in love with another guy when her whole life was turned upside down. That hurt you. I get that. But shit happens and most people can move on without being this much of puddle of raw sewage. And since she’s been back, she’s been exceptional at keeping her fucking promises. She accepted your damn conditions and she has kept them to the letter. Even at the cost of her relationship with her and Jamie’s daughter. So you, sir, can go fuck yourself.

Frank contradicting Claire over Bree’s birthday wish is such a perfect little window into how much of a manipulative, terrible person he is. It’s not enough that he gets to raise Bree as his own like he demanded. No, not for good ol’ Franky boy. Nope. He needs to undermine Claire. He needs to be the good guy who might give Bree a car when Claire says no. He needs to subtly (and probably consistently) make himself seem like the one who truly cares about Bree. He needs to carefully do stuff like this the whole time Bree is growing up so she notices that Claire is a bit distant. That’s not being a good parent. That’s being a terrible parent. Frank really needs to die already. *checks time left in episode*

Omg Claire’s face when she tells Bree she’s proud of her at graduation. Like Claire so obviously loves her daughter. And I honestly think that if Frank wasn’t undercutting her at every turn, she could have managed to have a better relationship with Bree. Like there was always going to be some distance, but I’m thinking Bree might not have noticed as much if Frank wasn’t like always making himself out to be the Good Guy parent?

“I’d like to take Brianna to England. I want a divorce, Claire.” You really are the most selfish prick, Frank. Like Bree’s going to go off to college regardless so this is Frank’s last chance to use her as a weapon to hurt Claire.

And jfc, “We’ll get married as soon as I’m free. I’m finished with this, Claire.” Seriously, Frank. You could have left years ago. You *should* have left years ago. You don’t get to be fucking butthurt here. Claire didn’t fuck with you. *You* refused to accept reality. She tried her fucking best for all these years. Now that you’re *finally* accepting how things are, you don’t get any fucking sympathy. You don’t get to play the fucking victim. You have spent fucking decades making Claire’s life as miserable as possible. You are not a good person. You are fucking scum.

Claire realizing that he’s only stuck around to fuck with her is kind of heartbreaking. Like she had things so much worse because she never was given the space to grieve, and just kept everything bottled up and it was all for a guy who just wanted to hurt her.

“Be reasonable, Claire.” HOW CAN ANYONE POSSIBLY FUCKING THINK THIS GUY IS ANYTHING BUT A FLAMING SACK OF SHIT?! BE REASONABLE?! SHE’S BEEN FUCKING REASONABLE FOR ALMOST 20 YEARS. SHE’S DONE EVERYTHING YOU’VE FUCKING ASKED AT THE EXPENSE OF WHAT *SHE* NEEDED. SHE COULDN’T GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANTED SO SHE GAVE YOU WHAT SHE COULD. AND YOU WERE NOTHING BUT TERRIBLE TO HER IN RETURN.

Yeah, they took out him being racist af, but show!Frank is just as fucking terrible as book!Frank. Can you please just fucking die already. *checks time left in episode*

“I would like to live the rest of my life with a wife who truly loves me.” EXCEPT THAT CLEARLY YOU’D RATHER TORMENT CLAIRE THAN ACTUALLY DO THAT YOU PATHETIC, PETTY WASTE OF OXYGEN. YOU COULD HAVE MARRIED YOUR FUCKING GIRLFRIEND YEARS AGO. YOU KNEW YOU COULD STILL BE IN BREE’S LIFE. BUT YOU CHOSE NOT TO BECAUSE YOU’RE SO FUCKING SHITTY YOU WOULD RATHER STICK AROUND JUST TO HURT CLAIRE. YOU DO NOT DESERVE A HAPPY ENDING, FRANK. YOU DESERVE A MORE VIOLENT DEATH THAN YOU GOT.

“You couldn’t look at Brianna without seeing him. Could you? Without that constant reminder.” NO SHIT, FRANK. BUT NO, YOU COULD NEVER SEE HOW MUCH CLAIRE WAS HURTING. OR HOW MUCH YOUR FUCKING CONDITIONS WERE RUINING THE RELATIONSHIP SHE COULD HAVE HAD WITH HER DAUGHTER. BECAUSE OF COURSE SHE WAS FUCKING REMINDED OF JAMIE. SO OF COURSE IT HURT HER TO NOT BE ABLE TO SHARE JAMIE WITH BREE. AND OF COURSE SHE FUCKING HAD TO WATCH HERSELF AROUND BREE CONSTANTLY SO THAT SHE DIDN’T SLIP UP. EVEN WITHOUT YOUR UNDERCUTTING HER AS A PARENT, IT WAS ALREADY YOUR FAULT THAT SHE WASN’T AS CLOSE TO BREE AS SHE COULD HAVE BEEN.

CLAIRE YOU SHOULD HAVE FUCKING JUST LEFT. I KNOW YOU PROMISED BUT FFS JAMIE WOULDN’T HAVE WANTED YOUR DAUGHTER TO LOSE YOU AS WELL AS HIM. UGH I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS. LIKE IT’S SO WELL ACTED BUT I STILL WANT TO THROW SOMETHING.

“Might you have forgotten him, with time?” “That amount of time doesn’t exist.” Yup. Boom. And yet she still fucking tried, Frank. She still gave it everything she fucking had. She didn’t even get to grieve. She fucking bottled everything up and fucking put on a brave face and fucking gave it her all. And you were too selfish and petty to fucking see or appreciate just how hard she was fucking trying. You are literally the worst.

I’m usually ok with changing stuff from being verbatim from the books (with a few exceptions...), but in the scene with Claire and Frank’s body, I kind of miss the finality of the “once” at the end of the line? “I did love you. Once.” But yeah, he was her first love. And that does mean something. But not enough of something for me to not be annoyed that 2/3 of her side of the story thus far has been about him.

I think I find this side of things so annoying and rage-inducing because none of it feels like it earned the right to happen. The choice, to me, for Claire was never Jamie vs. Frank. It was Jamie vs. the entire 20th century. That was the hard choice. The Jamie vs. Frank choice was easy. Frank wasn’t right for her before she left. She chose not to go back to him. And having her stay in a loveless marriage with a manipulative asshole for 20 years is far less interesting to me than watching her try to get along by herself with Bree might have been. But “she made a promise to Jamie” yada yada, and we’re stuck with Frank. Who stopped being relevant ages ago. I know, “jfc, get over it, this is how it is, stfu,” so consider standard disclaimers about this being just my opinion and other’s being able to have theirs and yada yada applied. I hope assume most people who find this take the most annoying have already unfollowed/blocked/blacklisted me. But holy shit I’m glad this asshole is finally dead, and I really hope the Claire and Bree stuff in the next couple episodes is amazing because that’s what I’m here for. End rant.

#*#drunj!der yells about outlander #outlander starz #outlander 3x03

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nadjaofstatenisland · 6 years

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All the parents gather in the Cooper household for a Christmas party while the kids are all out (Post season 1 when Jason and Clifford were both still alive.) The wine and beer out all the parents are either in the kitchen dining room or in the living room. Alice, Hal Hermoine, Hiram, Penelope,Clifford, Fred, Mary, FP and his wife are in the living room. Near the fireplace Alice and Hal cuddled together Penelope and Clifford try to be the same. What game are they going to play?

I love the idea of Clifford and Penelope trying to be all cute like Alice and Hal. As if.

This is a great question, because I happen to love board games and party games in general because I’m a loser. (I have three friends and this is probably why.)

So my first thought is how funny it would be all of these guys playing Pandemic (couples playing as one character). The idea of Pandemic is to work together and win as a group, so I can see this being painful for some of these guys.

The obvious choice would be Monopoly. By the end I see a big show off between Fred and Hiram. Fred’s the big property owner, but Hiram is cash rich. Hiram keeps trying to cut him a deal and Fred’s not having it.

If we want to take it a little lighter, imagine these guys playing Ultimate Werewolf or Mafia. At ten people, they could get a good game going and since it’s all about figuring out who’s who, this could be good. Really good. (Alice peeks constantly and knows who everyone is.)

Another funny image is them playing something Cards Against Humanity. Some how, FP keeps ending up with all the really dirty cards and winning every hand.

#anon asks #riverparents #parentdale

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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years

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On the Ridge: Imagine Claire explaining to William about the "other" William - Jamie's late older brother Willie; which Jamie overhears and joins to add his own memories/insights. (I obviously love me some William - Jamie stories. I think that relationship has some real potential going forward and am eager to see what you can do with it) Love your work THANKS!!

Homecoming - Part Two

Part One

William followed Claire to the barn with the horses and the wagon.

“I appreciate the offer of a bed for the night,” he said awkwardly, “but I don’t think–”

“Nonsense,” Claire interrupted. “There’s no way I’m letting you wander off and make a camp on your own like that when you’ve already been traveling for Lord knows how long without the comforts of a home. You’re staying at least a few days.”

“A few days?” William made a face of discomfort at the horse poking its head over the door of its stall. The horse snorted with either derision or amusement before burying its muzzle in the bale of hay waiting in the corner. William rolled his eyes and moved on to the second horse while Claire came along behind him and passed in a bucket of water for the hungry creature.

“I know it’s all a bit daunting just now,” she said apologetically. “We weren’t expecting to see Bree and Roger here again.”

“Yes, I seem to recall they were traveling somewhere distant when I met them before.” William was happy to shift the conversation from himself but felt his ears heat at the flash of curiosity he had about Brianna and her family… his sister.

“They had decided to go to France,” Claire confirmed. William looked up, furrowing his brow but Claire was looking at the horse in front of her, reaching out to rub the side of its neck. There was something off about her tone. “The war seemed… inevitable at that point and with the children… They wanted to be as far from whatever was coming and Jamie has family in France––a cousin who’s a wine merchant and one of his nephews as well. We haven’t had much time do discuss what it is that’s brought them back yet… and with no word of warning to us either.”

With the horses settled and the wagon tucked away out of the sun, Claire led William towards the big house.

“If they’re going to be staying here with you for some time, I’d hate to be an added burden,” William insisted, hoping he’d found his way to back out of an extended visit.

“You are not and never will be a burden, William,” Claire told him with firm gentleness. “The children can all share a room easily which will leave a room for Bree and Roger and a room for you. There’s the table in my surgery and even the barn loft if we need more room.”

William peeked his head around one doorway into the small front parlor to one side of the entryway then turned to investigate the larger space opposite.

His eyes widened.

“You can go in and look around if you like,” Claire said from behind him. He could hear the smile in her voice.

He stepped into the room. There was a large rectangular table in the center, long and wide enough for a person to lie down upon without the need to worry about falling to the floor. A large cauldron hung from a hook that could easily be swung over the fire when necessary. Instead of an oven for baking bread built into the bricks, small shelves had been built into the recesses and were lined with pottery containers labeled with various herbs. A desk sat beneath the light of one window and a work bench lined the wall at the other. A single chair was currently tucked into the corner of the room leaving plenty of room for moving about the space. He turned around. Books lined the lower shelves of a the wall next to the doorway while bandages and medical instruments occupied the higher shelves.

“It’s larger than the last surgery Jamie built me,” she informed William.

“He built all this?”

Claire nodded. “Well, he designed it and had help with the construction part. But yes, he built it for me.” She smiled to herself as she ran a palm along the top of her work bench.

“What does that door lead to?” he inquired before he thought of whether the question might be considered prying.

The door was next to the room’s outer wall a foot or so from the hearth.

“That connects this room to Jamie’s study next door.” They had taken to dealing with their work outdoors in the cooler air of the mornings when possible before retreating inside during the heat of the afternoon. It was a comfort to them both to leave the door open between the rooms so they could hear each other moving about; of course, it allowed them additional discretion at other times too, a level of discretion that came in quite handy with Germain and Fanny around the house. “There’s an entrance on the main hall too. The parlor and dining room adjoin similarly and the dining room connects to the kitchen at the back of the house as well.”

William nodded, his eyes still drawn to the closed door that led to Jamie’s personal space. William wondered what books lined his shelves; did he have tokens of his time as a soldier the like his father and Uncle Hal with their dress swords and pistols; what about art on the walls…

“I think I’ll put you in the room over the parlor. It’s furthest from the children,” she explained. “Roger and Bree can have the room next to them. Jamie and I are on the opposite side of the landing so we’ll be fine too.”

“You think they’ll cause trouble?”

“Oh, I know they will,” Claire said with a laugh, turning to leave the surgery for the stairs. “Germain and Jem especially. It won’t take long for them to get reacquainted and both have a knack for it. I shudder to think what they’ll accomplish when they combine their efforts.”

Claire led William to his room opening the windows to air out the space. It hadn’t been used yet and the scent of the sawdust still undercut the sharper odors of the paint Jamie had used on the walls.

“Depending on how the crops do this year, we were talking about looking to order wallpaper for some of these rooms––the parlor and dining room first, but then a few of the rooms up here.” Jamie still had so many plans for the house though he was happily setting them aside to enjoy the fruits of his labors since it had finally become habitable. “You take your time settling in up here. Rest if you need it. I’ll be down in the kitchen fixing something to eat when you’re ready.”

She left him alone then and William spent some time poking around the spare room and wondering what he should do about staying or leaving.

Every inch of him crawled with discomfort at the thought of staying and it made him ashamed to admit it to himself. He knew it was useless to even pretend that being away from Jamie Fraser made it possible to pretend nothing had changed and yet, a piece of him wished that were the case, that he could go back to that time before simply by getting away from the players in that revelation.

But he wasn’t a coward. And he was curious, especially about his sister and what she made of everything. How much did she know? And when had she learned the truth? She must have known when they’d met before.

There was also Fanny to consider. He had no doubt that she was well cared for but he needed to be sure for her sister’s sake and she would want to see him too.

So then, how long did he have to stay until it was no longer impolite to leave? A few days, he decided; a week at most. He should be sure that Dottie settled in with her sister-in-law and… Ian Murray. That was the other reason he wanted desperately to get away. The prospect of encountering Rachel and Ian made his stomach bottom out. He wanted Rachel to be happy and he knew Ian was a good man… but seeing them happy together… He wasn’t sure he was ready for that yet. The longer he stayed, the more likely it became that he would find himself in one or both of their company for some length of time.

He didn’t know how long he’d been up there pacing about and musing to himself but he finally built up the courage to go back downstairs and find Claire.

It must’ve been some time because she had tea, warmed bread with honey, and some heated ham ready for him on a tray set near the hearth in her surgery. The chair from the corner had been pulled over to the table in the middle of the room but she stood at her work table threading curved needles and assembling suture kits for future use.

“It’s tedious work,” she said, looking up into the window where he suddenly became aware of his reflection, “but having these prepared ahead of time can be enough to save a life. You should eat something,” she remarked, setting her work aside to face him.

“I’ll stay but only for a week,” he blurted. “I need to be sure Dottie settles and then I’ll be on my way again. You’ll have enough going on with your daughter and her family.”

“They’re your family too,” Claire insisted, gently. “I know you may not be ready to hear it or to accept it, but it doesn’t change the fact that as far as the rest of us are concerned, you are.”

William walked over to the tray Claire had prepared and lifted it from the floor to the table, wincing at the heat of the handles even as he was relieved to look away from Claire. Her face showed everything she thought––and clearly she thought he was behaving like a petulant and stubborn child––but he also couldn’t shake the impression that she noticed everything about him with her piercing amber eyes. It made him feel like a trapped insect.

“It would mean a lot to Jamie and to Bree if you stayed for a while––start with a week, but please consider staying longer. You might be surprised by how much it grows on you.”

“How much what grows on me?”

“Being a part of a family.”

He looked up at her then. “I have a family. Papa, Uncle Hal and Aunt Minnie… I have my cousins…” But he knew that, while what he said was true, what he’d witnessed between Jamie, Claire, Ian, and the rest of them, however briefly, was different. He gobbled a slice of the honey-soaked bread and enjoyed the feeling of it sticking to the roof of his mouth, preventing him from having to say anything.

“I think you should have a talk with Brianna,” Claire said with a nod and amused smile that confused William. “She reacted about as well as you did when she learned the truth about Jamie being her father.”

William swallowed hard, the honey on the bread sticking to his throat as it went down.

“What do you––She didn’t––Why?”

“I thought Jamie died at Culloden. I was already carrying Bree when it happened… I remarried and he wanted to raise her as his own. It wasn’t until after he died and I learned that Jamie survived that I told her.”

William blinked and reached for the cup of tea. It gave him something to hold while he thought about what she’d told him.

“Is that why it doesn’t bother you? Whatever there was between him and my mother?”

Claire’s expression went hard for a moment and color flooded her cheeks but she took a deep breath before answering and her tone remained controlled. “It does bother me but not for the reasons you think… and some of those reasons as well,” she conceded. “But none of that affects my opinion of you or how I think of you,” she insisted.

“You look at me and see him,” William guessed.

“I look at you and see the son he and I were supposed to have together… the son we would have had together if circumstances had been… more forgiving.” The smile she offered was small and a little sad. “The first time I was pregnant and we discussed baby names, we thought about the name William if it was a boy, for Jamie’s older brother… he died of smallpox when Jamie was just a boy.”

William blinked in surprise but could only think of questions that he knew it would be indelicate to ask. What did she mean by the first time? How many half-siblings did he have?

“Part of me was thrilled when I heard they’d called ye William,” Jamie said from the doorway to the surgery, startling both William and Claire.

She was only half surprised they hadn’t heard him come through the door. William nearly dropped his cup of tea and was profoundly thankful he’d finished the contents. He set it down gently and pushed the rest of the tray away but stayed where he was.

Jamie’s face was flushed from a combination of self-consciousness and the hasty walk out to Ian and Rachel’s followed by his equally hasty walk back.

“I couldna claim ye as mine but knowin’ ye had my brother’s name… it made ye feel a bit more mine nonetheless. I cannae say was it down to me or no, but I called ye Willie every time I saw ye as a babe. As ye grew and yer grandparents and yer aunt and nurses started callin’ ye that too…” Tears pooled in Jamie’s eyes but he held them in check as William and Claire waited. He blinked them back and cleared his throat, looking to Claire for reassurance. “Yer cousin left something behind and I said I’d come fetch it. Ian and Rachel seem pleased to have her and the bairn stay wi’ them as long as she needs. I left Bree and Roger talkin’ with Jenny. I’ll tell ye the rest later tonight, mo nighean donn, and I’m to be sure ye ken ye’re welcome to come and join the festivities tonight too,” he addressed William.

“Thank the Murrays for me,” William said stirring from his spot at the central table, “But I think I’m going to go up for the night a bit early. I’ve been pushing myself to keep vigilant with Dottie and the baby. Between that and Minnie’s crying in the night, I’m afraid I’m dead on my feet.”

Jamie stepped back from the doorway to let William pass and head up the stairs.

Claire was at his side and squeezing his hand until they heard the bedroom door close above them.

“He’s agreed to stay at least a week,” Claire whispered. “And I’m pretty sure he’ll reach out to Bree.”

Jamie nodded and then his lips twitched. “He’ll have a devil of a time trying to avoid her if he doesn’t.”

Claire felt the chuckle rattle through Jamie’s chest as he pulled her against him and rested his chin on her head.

#;mod lenny #shorthumbz #homecoming au #book 9?#speculation #featuring: william

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medievalcat · 7 years

Text

Snowflakes swirled from a dark sky and ashes rose to meet them, the grey and the white whirling around each other as flaming arrows arced above a wooden wall and dead things shambled silent through the cold, beneath a great grey cliff where fires burned inside a hundred caves. Then the wind rose and the white mist came sweeping in, impossibly cold, and one by one the fires went out. Afterward only the skulls remained.

Death, thought Melisandre. The skulls are death.

Melisandre I, ADWD

That night he dreamed of the feast Ned Stark had thrown when King Robert came to Winterfell. The hall rang with music and laughter, though the cold winds were rising outside. At first it was all wine and roast meat, and Theon was making japes and eyeing the serving girls and having himself a fine time . . . until he noticed that the room was growing darker. The music did not seem so jolly then; he heard discords and strange silences, and notes that hung in the air bleeding. Suddenly the wine turned bitter in his mouth, and when he looked up from his cup he saw that he was dining with the dead.

Theon V, ACOK

She had come from Asshai in the east, she had come to Dragonstone and won Selsye and her queen's men for her alien god, and then the king, Stannis Baratheon himself.

Davos I, ASOS

“Cruel places breed cruel peoples, Bran, remember that as you deal with these ironmen. Your lord father did what he could to gentle Theon, but I fear it was too little and too late.”

Bran VI, ACOK

"If Robb has to go, watch over him," Bran entreated the old gods, as they watched him with the heart tree's red eyes, "and watch over his men, Hal and Quent and the rest, and Lord Umber and Lady Mormont and the other lords. And Theon too, I suppose.”

Bran VI, AGOT

Davos gestured at the distant lights flickering along the walls of Storm's End. "Feel how cold the wind is? The guards will huddle close to those torches. A little warmth, a little light, they're a comfort on a night like this. Yet that will blind them, so they will not see us pass." I hope. "The god of darkness protects us now, my lady. Even you."

Davos II, ACOK

As for Chayle, he had to give someone to the Drowned God, his men expected it. "I bear you no ill will," he'd told the septon before they threw him down the well, "but you and your gods have no place here now."

Theon IV, ACOK

Davos retreated from her. "I want no part of you, my lady. Or your god. May the Seven protect me."

Melisandre sighed. "They did not protect Guncer Sunglass. He prayed thrice each day, and bore seven seven-pointed stars upon his shield, but when R'hllor reached out his hand his prayers turned to screams, and he burned. Why cling to these false gods?"

Davos III, ASOS

Perhaps tonight Theon would sleep without fear of what his dreams might bring.

Theon VI, ACOK

One day, Melisandre prayed, she would not sleep at all. One day she would be free of dreams.

Melisandre I, ADWD

She had no time for sleep, with the weight of the world upon her shoulders. And she feared to dream.

Melisandre I, ADWD

“I cannot sleep, m'lord. I walk.”

A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

"We flew. Let Abel make a song of that, we flew."

Theon I, TWOW

"The night is dark and filled with terrors," Melisandre sang. "Alone we are born and alone we die, but as we walk through this black vale we draw strength from one another, and from you, our lord."

Jon X, ADWD

Melisandre of Asshai did not fear for herself. R'hllor would protect her.

Melisandre I, ADWD

The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name.

A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

Tears trickled down his cheeks, impossibly warm. "I was ironborn. A son … a son of Pyke, of the islands."

A leaf drifted down from above, brushed his brow, and landed in the pool. It floated on the water, red, five-fingered, like a bloody hand. "… Bran," the tree murmured.

A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

Strange voices called to her from days long past. "Melony," she heard a woman cry. A man's voice called, "Lot Seven." She was weeping, and her tears were flame. And still she drank it in.

Melisandre I, ADWD

Melony, she thought. Lot Seven.

Melisandre I, ADWD

Let me die as Theon, not as Reek.

A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

#i say things #my traumatized religious-awakening problematique faves

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biofunmy · 5 years

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Diahann Carroll Was the Only Mother I Knew

On Friday morning, when I woke up to 97 new notifications on Facebook, I knew something was up. They turned out to be condolences over the death of actress Diahann Carroll, who played my mother on the TV show “Julia.” She was the only mother I had ever really known.

The show premiered over 50 years ago and was nominated for multiple Emmys. From the ages of 5 to 8, I played Julia’s son, Corey Baker. Julia was a groundbreaking character; she was the first African-American woman on a television series to star as a professional, rather than in the stereotypical role of a servant.

I find it funny and a bit ironic that in real life the kid who played her son grew up to become a waiter serving the crowd of celebrities I used to be among.

My parents, who were both actors, separated when I was 6 months old. Eventually my father, who didn’t approve of how I was being raised, assumed full custody. My mother moved to Europe, where she found some professional success. I believe I was 2 the last time I saw her. It was my father’s agent who thought I’d be right for a role on a new Fox TV show. I was 5.

“Julia” premiered in 1968, around the time of the Vietnam War, protests, riots and the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I was a black 5-year-old being raised by his single father, cast to play a 5-year-old being raised by his single mother.

The show was a huge success. There were limousines, private jets, police escorts and luxury hotels. Fans chased me around shopping malls. At the N.A.A.C.P. Image Awards, Michael Jackson asked for my autograph. I nearly fell off the stage that night, trying to escape a kiss from Diana Ross.

Not having a mother of my own to return to, I began asking Ms. Carroll if I could go home with her when we finished shooting for the day.

I loved staying with her in her Beverly Hills home, which I did a lot during the show’s first season. It was the lap of luxury, filled with elegant artwork and furniture. She had a wonderful garden where you could pick fresh fruit.

She had a daughter named Suzanne. And though I began to regard Suzanne as my real sister, the feeling was not mutual. Who could blame her? Had Ms. Carroll been my real mother, I would not have wanted to share her, either. I didn’t understand how unhappy the arrangement made Suzanne until I read Ms. Carroll’s memoir “Diahann: An Autobiography.”

“Eventually I had to confront the reason for Suzanne’s anger and begin to remove myself from Marc,” she wrote. “‘Suzie’s my real daughter,’ I explained. ‘And you’re my television son. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you very much. I do. But when the day is over, you must return to your home and I want to do to the same.’ It was such a painful moment. Marc couldn’t understand what was wrong and was terribly hurt.”

Ms. Carroll taught me to always be punctual and a person of my word, as she was. She came to the set on time for each show, completely prepared. She was polite to everyone and always careful about her diet. She would let me know if I started to get a little too pudgy. The producers would give me Bazooka bubble gum, but she would give me carob snacks that she thought were much healthier.

After three years and 86 episodes, “Julia” was canceled in 1971. The official word was that Ms. Carroll and the show’s creator, Hal Kanter, wanted to move on. The show had put a great deal of stress on Ms. Carroll. By age 9, I was being called a “has-been.”

Ms. Carroll tried to keep in touch with me, and I made a guest appearance on one of her television specials. I did sketches with Dick Van Dyke, who was one of the nicest people you could ever hope to meet, and another sketch with Bill Cosby who, well … not so nice.

With my earnings from the show, my father and I moved to a middle-class and predominantly white neighborhood in the early 1970s. I was called the N-word a handful of times. When I played Little League, the opposing team would chant, “Pitcher stinks, catcher’s worse, look at the Fudgsicle playing first.” I was playing first.

The decade after high school, I started taking acting seriously. I screen tested for “One Life to Live” with Ola Ray, a Playboy centerfold. Blair Underwood was the actor I was up against. He got the part.

In 2010 I saw him at a party I was working as a cater-waiter. Ebony magazine was honoring celebrities who had graced its covers over the years. I had been on Ebony covers. But my job for the evening was to serve and clean up after the other celebrities. Mr. Underwood and Ms. Carroll were among the honored guests. I felt embarrassed about approaching Diahann and purposely stayed out of her sight. I had thought waiting tables was a job I would do for a summer or two in my 20s. Yet that night, at age 48, and until last year, I was still waiting.

Not that there’s anything wrong with being a cater-waiter. It’s an honest profession. There are upsides. I’ve stood just feet away as Stevie Wonder, Sting, John Legend, Lady Gaga, Lenny Kravitz, Elton John and Katy Perry performed. I’ve tasted the finest foods prepared by famous chefs from around the world. Whenever I come across an entitled celebrity at one of these events, I remember how I was once one of them. I’m in the National Museum of African-American History and Culture, and the Smithsonian, part of our national archives. How many people can say that?

I ran into Ms. Carroll a handful of times over the years and she was always kind. I have acted intermittently in the years since “Julia” — “Cop Rock,” “Diff’rent Strokes,” “Sanford and Son” and “The Kid” — though less in the last 10 years.

Then in the fall of 2017, Ms. Carroll and I signed photographs next to each other at an autograph show near LAX airport. When I got there, one of the organizers informed me Diahann was suffering from dementia. This was the first I’d heard of it. There were no apparent signs as far as I could tell. She looked great as usual, in a black and gold outfit. She did not approve of what I was wearing. My sweatpants and bandanna look were not up to her standards. She was never shy about voicing her opinions to me, as a mother would.

We had a delightful time signing together. Before I left she gave me her phone number and we made plans to have dinner.

A few weeks later, I picked her up at her apartment in West Hollywood. We dined at an expensive restaurant that she suggested down the street. She looked beautiful and well turned out as always. And you better believe I dressed up this time.

Ms. Carroll enjoyed her fine wines from time to time and we shared a carafe or two that evening. She told me her cancer had come back. I showed her an old picture I found of me and Suzanne at a pool party during our “Julia” days. She asked for a copy and talked about her grandchildren. She was happy her granddaughter shared her good fashion sense.

After four divorces, she told me that marriage was overrated, but when I did find that special someone I must bring them over so that she could meet them and give her approval.

She offered career advice, suggesting I hire a publicist, reminding me that I should be proud I was one of television’s first black child stars. She also generously asked, “What can I do to help you?” When I told her I was writing a memoir, she told me to call it “Television’s First Black Child Star.”

I wanted the evening’s dinner to be my treat, but she insisted on picking up the tab. I was relieved she did, because that bill amounted to almost half my monthly rent. On the car ride back to her place, we sang along to Tony Bennett’s version of “There Will Never Be Another You” on my playlist.

After dropping her off and driving home, I realized she had put her keys in my doggie bag. I called her as soon as I found them. “You need to bring me those keys right now, young man. I can’t get into my home without them.” At 1 a.m., I drove 40 minutes back to her. When I arrived, she was in the lobby waiting for me. We hugged and kissed goodbye. That would be the last time I would see her.

The last time I spoke with Ms. Carroll on the phone, I told her I loved her. The loss has hit me hard.

“Did you wish your mother Diahann a happy Mother’s Day?” people asked me over the years. I would remind them that she wasn’t my real mother. She only played my mom on TV. I’m not quite sure at what point Ms. Carroll stopped being my mother in my mind.

And I’ve always wondered if my real mother knew I was on a groundbreaking television show where an actress played the role my real mother didn’t want. For three wonderful years, I was lucky that Diahann did.

Marc Copage lives in Los Angeles, where he is working on a memoir titled “Television’s First Black Child Star.”

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